Velvet Roses
by chrissytingting
Summary: "I know you," he whispered silkily, his cool breath tickling her ear. "You want power. You want the forbidden knowledge. The Dark Arts... It enthralls you, it calls to your soul.. and I can give you all of that, My Dark Lady. So surrender to me." DARK.
1. Abominable Defect

**Disclaimer: **I'm only going to say this once: I do not own Harry Potter. No profit is being made from this story, and all rights go to its rightful owner.

**WARNING: **This story is VERY dark. If you are afraid of and/or disapprove of dark stories, I do not recommend for you to read this story. This first chapter is not dark, so no worries... Continue if you dare.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, so here is my second Tomione. I hope you all do enjoy this story, and I'll make it as non-cliché as I can. So enjoy, kick back, relax, finish reading, get your butt off of the seat, and **review if you want me to continue!**

O

**Velvet Roses**

_By chrissytingting_

The darkness hung over the world as if a fog that would never lift. It was a cloak that was never unraveled, and it was a thick sheen of magic that would never reveal what was hidden beneath. The darkness concealed the humans, the humans that were rasping for their final breath, hearts ever beating, tears ever being cried, hope slipping from their sweaty, bloody grips like water.

"Please," the girl croaked, a trembling hand rising to grab another's. Her hand was thin and bony: it was unhealthily pale, and dirt was smeared all over it. The veins were nearly unable to be seen from the lack of water. "We can still win."

She was not pleading for her own life. No, the Gryffindor would never surrender her pride and dignity. It mattered not if she lived or if she died: it made no difference to her. Who was to be afraid of death at this time? Death was a quite route out of this cold, black world. Instead, she was pleading for the sake of the Light. She was imploring him to find a piece of his heart and do something good for the world.

Her hand grabbed another pale hand, grasping it with the firmest grip that she could muster. Her dirt-covered fingers soiled the immaculately clean ones, but it seemed not to matter to the owner of the hand.

"Granger." A bass, smooth voice answered her. His silver eyes were dark with indecision, flickering from the door back to the prisoner in front of him. He was now not a boy but a man. He wasn't a joking, taunting, immature boy who didn't have a care in the world. He was a man who was darkly powerful, but inside, there had to be something light… There had to be a beating heart inside that chest.

"Please," she whispered, tears filling those haunted, amber eyes. Those eyes had once been filled with intelligence and young curiosity. Those eyes had once held spirit and sparkling Gryffindor braveness. But now, breathing heavily on the cold, marble floor of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor with only Draco Malfoy kneeling beside her, those very same eyes looked dead.

They were exhausted. Those eyes held memories, memories that were painful and tormenting, memories that one would never dream of living through and would never wish upon their most hated enemy if they had a heart. She was haunted and pale, translucent as if a ghost, and the wild hair that once had beautiful golden streaks through the brown curls were now limp and dull.

"Please," Hermione whispered again. "You are not your father. You are not a Death Eater, despite the cloak that you wear and the mask on your face. No, you have a heart, and you know what is wrong and what is right." Her voice, even though it was fading and trembling with effort, seemed as if to get stronger and hit closer to Draco Malfoy's heart every word she said.

"I'm not ready to die," Draco murmured softly, sounding strangely young and naïve. "I'm not ready to leave my mother. I'm not ready to leave the world." His quiet words echoed through the room peculiarly, sounding so foreign to his own ears.

Hermione shook her head slowly, taking deep breaths. "I'm not asking for you to die by helping us. I'm asking you to win for _us_. The Light."

Grey eyes clashed with brown eyes, intensely staring at one another. The brown eyes were suddenly alight with hope, a fresh and new hope; that one can only clutch at the wisps of light. The grey eyes were filled with dilemma and pain, unable to pick their side.

Finally, the silence was broken. "Come with me," Draco hissed quietly, grabbing the fragile girl and carrying her across the room. His cloak lightly swished across the floor as he walked swiftly towards the door, opening the wooden doors and peering out at the Great Hall. Looking satisfied that it was empty, he swung the door open all of the way, sweeping across the hall.

_What the hell am I doing? _He thought, gazing at the skinny girl in his arms. _I'm suicidal, that's what. _But the words 'us' and 'The Light' was burned into his mind. Deep in his heart, was he really part of the Light?

"My aunt and father thinks that I'm torturing you right now," Draco whispered in her ear, disguising his pain with a professional tone. He was a Slytherin, after all, and hiding his emotions was a Malfoy trait. "Once I open this door, an alarm will sound through the Manor. We'll have to run. After we reach past the wards…"

Hermione glanced suspiciously at the closed door at the far end of the hall before turning to stare at the entrance. A pair of polished black double-doors with silver handles was all that blocked her from the land beyond.

"I know some runes that can send me back in time," Hermione answered quietly. "I'm going back in time to change everything. I can't… I…" Tears began filling her eyes, wallowing in memories and horrors. The dead bodies… The screams that echoed through the cold dungeons… And she stood, paralyzed, unable to do anything but to watch…

Draco looked away, unable to look at the fallen lioness cry. After swallowing, he masked his emotions once again. "You know some runes that can send _us _back in time."

"What?"

"I'm not going to live if I simply let you run," Draco grabbed her arm, saying it almost harshly. His grey eyes nearly glared at her, radiating emotion and intensity. "I want to help."

She opened her mouth, no noise coming out. Hermione stared at his sincere yet harsh expression, contemplating her choices. She was going back in time… she needed to kill Tom Riddle. Would she need help? Hermione finally nodded slowly and did not protest.

After another moment of silence, it was apparent that they could not stall any longer. It was crucial for them to run… _now. _"Ready?"

Draco yanked the door open.

The moment his hand touched the silver handle, a rush of magic swept through the Manor, making Hermione tremble and shudder as an electrifying shock ran through her body. Draco placed her down, grabbing her arm and nearly yanking it out of its socket as he ran towards the stone path.

The front yard of Malfoy Manor was, frankly, very beautiful. Large, elegant vines curled around ancient trees whose branches twirled intricately around each other. The winds made the leaves rustle as it whistled through the cold, frosty air. The moonlight was all that graced the land with any source of light, making the stone path silver and creating a spotlight.

There was a shout from inside the house, and a string of profanities accompanied a bang. A bright flash of green lighted the dark windows, eerily creating an emerald hue, before disappearing. An abrupt silence followed before a sharp shriek penetrated the night air, and the splintering of wood was heard.

Hermione began to feel pain in her limbs. Everything hurt. Running, blinking, and _breathing._ Her lungs felt as if they were on fire, and her thin bones were shaking. The cold air bit at her skin relentlessly, and the wind made her eyes water. She was too weak from the endless days of torture.

"Malfoy… I… I can't make… it…" she choked, her hand slipping from his grip. "Please…"

"Almost there!" Draco called, holding on to her bony hand. "Keep running!"

A large boulder sat at the border of their territory, a shadow on one side. They were so close…

_No… _Her willpower was slipping, and her legs began to slow.

A jet of purple flew past their faces', narrowly missing Draco's head. Hermione gasped and stumbled in surprise, tripping over her own feet and falling over with a yelp. She felt strong arms hook under hers and pull her back up again, dragging her at first before effortlessly hoisting her over his shoulder and sprinting straight to the edge of the land.

Triple jets of blue, green, and purple whirled by, all missing, but still displaying that the person bearing the wand still had reasonable aim.

"We're… there! Hurry! Granger!" Draco dropped her on the ground, thrusting his wand into her quivering hands. His grey eyes were urgent and determined, faltering slightly when he stared back at the formidable figure of his father and the witchy silhouette of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Draco," Lucius Malfoy said silkily, his voice deadly soft. "Come back here… Or do you wish to suffer from the Dark Lord's wrath? He does not appreciate betrayal…"

"TRAITOR!" Bellatrix, her screech largely contrasting with the elder Malfoy's mysteriously dangerous tone, was waving her wand in complex patterns as she jumped up and down. Her untamed, black hair flew all around her, high cheekbones highlighted in the night. "You are a _disgrace _to our family name! _BLOOD-TRAITOR! _Are you lowering and degrading yourself to a _mudblood? _You are no nephew of _mine! You. Will. DIE!" _At this last word, another spell shot out of the end of her wand, whirling at them at impossible speeds.

Lucius Malfoy's silver eyes glinted like a predator as they advanced on the two younger runaways. "Draco… oh, what will happen if you do turn traitor. Unimaginable pain… And of course, what about your dear mother?"

Draco clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together.

"Yes, your poor, poor mother… _Dearest Narcissa…" _Lucius hissed, approaching them.

"_DISGRACE! ABOMINABLE DEFECT!" _the Lestrange's shrieks overpowered the soft, ominously mesmerizing words, her arms waving wildly. A glint of blood-thirst could be seen in her dark eyes as she stared at Hermione gleefully as she began to taunt: "Where will you run now, little _mudblood, _with wee itty bitty Potty gone? Oh, where has Potter gone? I nearly forgot! The Dark Lord _killed him! _Oh, dear! And the little Weasel… Oops, did we break your dirty, soiled heart?"

Hermione began to shake with anger, tears overwhelming her eyes and pouring onto her cheeks. She raised her wand at Bellatrix, wanting to torture… to _kill… Revenge…_

"No, Granger! We have to leave! _Now!" _Draco hissed, grabbing her wrist. "We leave _now!" _

Snapped back to the current situation and the mission at hand, Hermione summoned the bottled magic in her heart, unleashing it and reinforcing her magic with her fury. _Harry… Ron… All dead… Nothing left… Fight… _She wiped her tears furiously, wanting so badly to kill the madwoman… No, she had to perform the necessary runes so that they could survive. They'd survive for Harry and Ron and all of the other people who sacrificed them for the Wizarding World.

"_Laubh__ō," _Hermione directed the black wand at one spot in the ground, watching as a rune formed, it's lines fiery and orange, flames licking upwards greedily.

"_T__ī__ðís. Newjaz. __γ__ulth-. Hertan."_

A blast of magic suddenly was fed into the air, and Draco turned around to see his father, eyebrows forming a 'v' in anger as he shouted a spell. A jet of clear orange light shot towards them, and just when it about to hit them, it froze in midair, sizzling out defeatedly.

There was abruptly a crack of apparition, and a hooded figure began stalking towards them. The hood suddenly flew back, revealing a bald, white-skinned Dark Lord, his eyes crimson and furious as he stalked towards them, his wand raised with a curse at the tip of his tongue…

But Lord Voldemort's presence didn't create the fear and the horror that it usually did.

Colors that sparkled like crystals and diamonds spun around their bodies, whirling and twirling and forming a shield of protection. Golden blades spun out from around them, slicing through the air and flashing formidable sparks of magic that zigzagged through the dark, thundering skies. The magic wrapped around them like a cloak, bending to its masters and turning faster and faster.

Abruptly, there was peace. It was still and silent. No trace of the fiery magic was left behind in the grassy front yard of the Malfoy Manor. Only a whisper of the wind accompanied their disappearance, lightly drifting over the land with a feather-light touch.

The serenity lasted only temporarily. An inhuman scream–– terrifying, horrifying, and filled with ferocity and anger, cut through the morning air, clawing at ears and making people tremble and fall to the ground and beg for mercy.

O

Hermione watched the land drift away. She watched the dim outline of the grand Malfoy Manor begin to fade and flicker as the magic from her wand interrupted her vision, streaking around her body and accelerating as it went.

The dark silhouette of trees in the far left and the grass that tickled her ankles begun to disappear. Slowly, they faded to gold, the color of the powerful spell that now emitted sparks that flew around like a tornado. She saw the Death Eaters near them and a flash of glinting crimson eyes momentarily, but they were all gone too.

Hermione was lost in the flashing of images: some were of her life while others were of her companion's. Next to her, Draco was staring at the brilliant lights in awe, their hands intertwined so that they would not be lost in the maze of the vivid, sparkling galore.

Her life flashed before her eyes as she felt her body fly through space and time. However, this was a different type of feeling than the usual 'her life flashed before her eyes', quite unlike the feeling of nostalgia as one dies. Instead of seeing the most beautiful memories of her life that she would want to hold on even after life, she saw the most horrifying events that she feared as she lived now.

Harry, seeming to be dying over and over again. The light seeped away from the emerald of his eyes. The only reflection was from the glass in his glasses… His hand was cold and pale…

Ron: the flaming crown of red hair on his head dulling. The blood leaking from slit across his neck… gleaming in the minimal light of Grimmauld Place… His mouth trying to tell her his last words…

She was kept just to be a slave. _Malfoy's _slave.

Hermione hung her head down, sobs ripping through her chest as she saw the dead faces of her friends. Luna Lovegood. Ginny Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Hannah Abbott. So many more… They were all gone… _all dead._

The strange shards of magic slowly decreased in speed, the light seeping away as the power did as well. The images flickered before fading all together, leaving her broken-hearted. The warmth that had once enveloped them had now left, leaving them shivering and cold.

That was when they fell unconscious.

O

It hurt everywhere. Her muscles were sore and her hair felt as if it had been ripped off of her head. Her eyes were dry against her eyelids, and her hand felt as if it was carrying a thousand pounds on it. Her heart felt as if it was wheezing and stuttering over every beat.

"You're awake."

The voice was beautiful. It was flowing, a magical cadence… It was smooth and silky, a wonderful low voice that made her shiver.

There was something wrong with it.

Even with her eyes closed, she could tell that there was something dark in the voice. There seemed to be an enigmatic and frosty edge to his tone that made him darkly beautiful…

It entranced her.

Her eyes fluttered open to stare straight into enthralling grey eyes.

There was something much different with these eyes than Draco's.

The man's irises seemed to as if have layers and layers of the beautiful slate, making her want to drown in them. They were so entrancing… so mesmerizing… His pale skin was smooth and unblemished: his face was perfectly carved. His lips were flawlessly sculpted, and his high cheekbones gave him a look of an aristocrat. The dark hair over his head was straight and sleek, and it gave her the urge to run her fingers through them. He was… too perfect.

"Miss?" he inquired, raising a slender eyebrow at her.

Hermione gazed at them, eyes wide. "I… um…" she stuttered. "I'm… Hermione."

Abruptly, a cough interrupting her, and Hermione turned to stare at the pale figure sitting on a bed. Her cider-colored eyes widened spastically, and suddenly, everything was going back to her. Harry… Ron… Malfoy Manor… Draco… Her hand gripped for her wand, but she found it gone.

"I'm Tom Riddle," the man said quietly, his cold grey eyes calculating. "You and Demeire both collapsed right outside of Borgin and Burkes. I thought it would be better for me to bring you back here to the storerooms instead of leaving you outside in Knockturn Alley."

Hermione froze.

_Tom Riddle. _

What… Could he…?

There were no other Tom Riddles that could possibly be here. This was the one and only… He was the _Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort. _Hermione's hand twitched, searching for her wand again. She panicked slightly, realizing that her wand, once again, was not there.

_Lord Voldemort _had just brought her and Draco into the back storerooms of Borgin and Burkes, where Dumbledore had said that he had decided to work at after he finished Hogwarts. They were alone and wandless… Holy Merlin, they were going to die. He had decided to 'rescue' them from Knockturn Alley… there was surely something that he wanted in return. _Information._

At least her spell worked.

Why did it have to land them especially _here?_

And who the hell was 'Demeire'?

"Hermione?" Malfoy, sitting on a makeshift bed that consisted of a flimsy piece of fabric placed over a box, gave her a meaningful look. "Remember? I'm Draco… Draco _Demeire." _

She blanked out for a split second before understanding washed over her. He couldn't say that he was a Malfoy, or else there would be confusion because his grandfather was probably living at this time.

Her eyes flickered to the still form of Tom Riddle, who was probably assessing the situation. Fear fluttered in her heart as her eyes met with his cool, grey gaze, and she immediately looked away.

"Draco," she said quietly. "Are you… okay?"

She could see the anxiety in his eyes before he quickly masked it into a blank mask. "Yeah…" _Yeah, there's only a Dark Lord standing in front of us. _

"I… I apologize for causing you inconvenience," Hermione turned to stare at Riddle, taking a deep breath.

Riddle gave her a smirk, leaning forward and making her flinch. "No need to apologize. It's my duty to help young ladies like you," he answered silkily, giving her a handsome smile.

_Liar. _

"The real question is: _what _were you two doing, lying outside in Knockturn Alley?"

Hermione turned to stare at Draco, who was paler than normal. When it was apparent that he wasn't going to speak, she cleared her throat. "I… It was a potion explosion, I think. We were just walking when something in the boxes out there exploded."

Riddle's grey eyes narrowed, eyes darkening for a split second, obviously not believing her flimsy lie. Suddenly, his expression cleared, making her think that she had just imagined the dangerous look on his face. "Of course," he said charismatically. His expression faltered innocently. "How come I didn't see the residual of the potion?"

"It… It must've been a self absorbing potion," Hermione floundered, begging for Draco to speak. However, he seemed mute with fear, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I see," the younger version of the Dark Lord said, not caring to mask his doubt.

What did they just get themselves into?

**Author's Notes: **Okay, here's chapter one! I promise that the rest of the story will form soon, so stick with me here. Tell me your thoughts!

Below are the meanings of the runes that I used previously. They are written in Proto-Germanic, just as J.K. Rowling had written that Hermione had mixed up the words 'Eihwaz' and 'Ehwaz' (both words are Proto-Germanic).

_**Laubh**__**ō:**_** Leave**

_**T**__**ī**__**ðís:**_** Time **

_**Newjaz:**_** New**

_**γ**__**ulth-:**_** Gold**

_**Hertan:**_** Heart**

_Some say love, it is a river  
That drowns the tender reed  
Some say love, it is razor  
That leaves your soul to bleed  
Some say love, it is a hunger  
An endless aching need  
I say love, it is a flower  
And you, its only seed_

It's the heart, afraid of breaking  
That never learns to dance  
It's the dream, afraid of waking  
That never takes the chance  
It's the one who won't be taken  
Who cannot seem to give  
And the soul, afraid of dying  
That never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely  
And the road has been too long  
And you think that love is only  
For the lucky and the strong  
Just remember in the winter  
Far beneath the bitter snow  
Lies the seed  
That with the sun's love, in the spring  
Becomes the rose

_-Bette Midler, The Rose_


	2. Insincerity

**Author's Notes: **Thank you all for your lovely reviews! They really made me squeal and feel more encouraged to continue. You are all, truly, special. Anyone fancy a nice little present wrapped up with green wrapping paper and a silver ribbon? Yes, it's Slytherin colors! So do give me feedback on this chappie for a virtual, not-able-to-be-seen prezzie!

_Reviewers: karithekarbear, sNAPpyDraGon, west carson girl, shan, EYESviolet, HPmadness12, LeeshiLou, Zombie Reine, laurelley, Megii of Mysteri OusStranger, LittleMissSmile, darkxangelxreaderx, smileylol, Lost O'Fallon Girl, RiddleCrazy, Evanelle, starlight-x-A-x, HereToRead84, TimeRose, sweet-tang-honney, Caro09, Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace, Edward-is-sexier-than-Mike, ginny7777, Purple Hobbit, azulaiii, lizzywithfire, Welshteen, p.g, kama674_

_Shout-out to west carson girl: _Thank you for your review! I wish you had an account so that I could send you a PM to answer your reviews, but I suppose this will do. But goodness me, you're right. I _do _have the tendency to kill everyone. Wow.

O

The Gryffindor was panicking. Sweat coated the back of her neck like a second layer of skin, her hands were clammy, and her eyes flickered around warily at the dark streets as she trudged behind the younger version of Lord Voldemort. She glared at his ramrod-straight back, wanting to curse him for all of the complications and terrors that he had brought into the world.

Hermione honestly didn't know how Voldemort had managed to corner her with his cunning and carefully manipulated words. Weaseling out of this intricate snare that he had created would be nearly impossible if she wanted to hide so many secrets and not arise suspicion.

_Flashback_

"_I can imagine that the potion explosion has some lasting side affects. Perhaps it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience if you and Demeire went to see a Healer?" Riddle inquired charmingly, a kind smile on his lips. The smile made Hermione shudder: only the slightest twitch of those lips and it would've been a sneer, and with those darkening, cold grey eyes, it wouldn't have been too hard to see him as a mass murderer or a Dark Lord. _

_Hermione shook her head to clear her mind and answer his all-too-innocent question. "No need, I feel fine. Draco and I should get going…" she barely concealed the tremble in her voice._

"_Self-absorbing potions are well-known for their creeping attacks. It may lay dormant in your body for some time, but at any moment it can strike. I strongly advise for you to see a Healer." _

"_No, no," Hermione gulped, picking at the wearied cloth that she sat on, looking at anything but his probing eyes. The world's best and most dangerous Legilimens now stood before her, and he obviously wanted information. "There's no need for that. There is simply too much publicity… and Draco and I can visit the hospital any time."_

_Hermione braved a glance upwards to see Riddle's expression, and for a mere second, she thought she saw a flash of triumph before it was carefully cloaked with 'sincere' concern._

"_A friend of mine is rather practiced at dark potion maladies. If publicity is a problem, I can contact my friend…"_

_The way he said 'friend' made her shiver. Of course, his 'friend' would find no inconvenience in treating any person Riddle decided to bring over to his house. Hell, if Riddle told his 'friend' to jump off a cliff, his 'friend' would obey without a bat of his eyes._

_Riddle's friend was no doubt a Death Eater, or a Knight of Walpurgis, or whatever they were known as currently. And what would happen if his 'friend' found not a speck of a potion on her skin? Or did Riddle already suspect something and decide that he wanted to capture them?_

"_No, thank you," Hermione answered, taking immense interest of the edge of the fabric on her shirt. "There really is no need. My… My grandmother is waiting for Mal –– Draco and I, and I'm sure that she will alert St. Mungo's if anything happens." _Good, let him think that someone will notice if we suddenly disappear, _she thought, feeling rather proud of herself for the subtle hint._

"_It's always more prudent to check before the potion's affects attack," Riddle said, his grey eyes fixed in her face. Hermione looked up, unable to resist, and stared straight into those eyes, such beautiful, hypnotic eyes. She felt like she could fall straight into those eyes and wander through those layers of translucent silver films. They seemed to glow with an intensity that she had never seen before on anyone else's face._

"_Thank you, Mr. Riddle, for your generous offer." Draco interrupted their stare sharply, finally speaking. He looked as if he had just swallowed a sour lemon, and she could see how much force and willpower it took to say 'thank you' to 'Mr. Riddle's' 'generous' offer. "Hermione, I think it would be safer to check, just in case."_

_Hermione immediately pulled herself out of the ocean-like depths of Riddle's mesmerizing eyes and stared at Draco blankly. Had he gone crazy? What if they got captured? They didn't have a plan! _

"_Then it's settled. If you would like to owl your grandmother…" Riddle turned to face Hermione once again, an ominously mocking edge to his voice, "You may. I will close up the store, I'm sure Borgin won't mind." He stood up, a mysterious aura shrouding his emotions, and left the storage room, closing the wooden planked door behind him._

_Draco immediately pulled out his wand and casted a 'silencio' at the door, preparing for Hermione's shouting that would, with no doubt, ensue._

"_Why did you say that?" Hermione shrieked, lunging forward at him and grabbing his crisp white collar. "His Death Eaters are going to capture us! Voldemort playing up his character! He isn't in school anymore, there's no hope that––"_

"_Hear me out, Granger!" Draco detached her from his collar and made her release the chokehold she had on him. "You are thinking like a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. You think that if we miraculously escaped his grip this time that he's going to let us live our lives out? I'd rather a straight-forward attack rather than glance at every shadow in the night as if it's going to surprise-kidnap me."_

_Hermione relaxed her clenched fist and took several deep breaths. "But if we escape this time, we have more time to plan––"_

"_We are fighting against the Dark Lord, Granger, not studying for some exam! We can plan all we want but it won't be enough… He's too unpredictable, and he's already interested in us."_

_The Gryffindor quieted for a moment, the idea of 'complicated Slytherins' reinforced in her mind. Was it because Draco was right that she was annoyed? Hermione bit her lip, swallowing her pride. This was a life or death situation, and if they made the wrong decision because she didn't want to admit that she was incorrect, then she'd be damned. She nodded once, giving in to Draco's choice this time. It would be an advantage to know the enemy better, she figured. _

_Silence followed, and the room seemed almost suffocating, as if closing in on them and cutting of the air supply. Mountains of wooden crates and boxes were stored from floor to ceiling, and an inch of dust had already settled on the top layer. Dust motes swirled around the air, making Hermione wrinkle her nose as if going to sneeze. She was sitting on a large mahogany chest, which was covered with a thin white-and-blue plaid piece of fabric. The closed door looked final and absolute, the doorknob was an old, rusting charcoal black, and just on the other side of the wood was the Wizarding World's next horror and enemy. _

_Another complication popped into her mind as she stared at the closed door. "Do you think that it's strange that he left us here? Riddle knows that we would discuss everything once his back is turned."_

"_I know," Draco answered quietly, blinking slowly. "But he isn't one to give his prey a swift killing. He likes playing with them, taunting and having fun with the weaker, watching their eyes deaden every day. Riddle will probably give us every opportunity to win but crush us in the end."_

"_False hope," Hermione whispered._

_Draco nodded, taking a shuddering breath. "Let's hope that the combination of a Slytherin and Gryffindor mind will get us through this."_

_A combination of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Who would've ever thought?_

_They wallowed in their own thoughts for a moment, Hermione thinking sorrowfully of Harry and Ron and Ginny. What would they have done if they were here? She chuckled brokenly, imagining Harry launch an immediate Killing Curse at Riddle's back. Thoughtless and immediate results, she thought, missing him and his recklessness. Hermione loved every part of him, though she would never love him in any way more than a sibling. He had lived through so many expectations, fought against the pressure of the whole Wizarding community, and been through many life-threatening situations. Surely, Harry deserved to live? Hermione buried her face in her hands. Fate was cruel._

"_Mal–– Draco?" Hermione corrected, needing to get used to his first name._

_He looked at her expectantly._

"_How am I going to get a wand?" Hermione remembered how Lucius Malfoy had mercilessly snapped her precious wand in half, laughing at her helplessness. She was wandless and weak, and there was no chance of her winning with the number of people against her…_

_Draco didn't get the chance to answer, for Riddle opened the door quietly, an expression that she feared looked too knowing on his face, and said that they were leaving now._

_End Flashback_

"We'll have to use Side-Along Apparition," Riddle said, making it sound more like a command rather than a suggestion. "Not many people know where the Malfoys live."

Draco was about to arrogantly say, "Wiltshire, of course," but then immediately closed his mouth. He wasn't a Malfoy in the 1940s. No, he's a Demeire, and Demeires don't know where the Malfoys live.

Draco clenched his fist furiously, wanting to kill Tom Riddle. Here was the man who had assigned him to kill Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Here was the man who had tortured his family endlessly–– Draco would never forget the sight of his once-proud father kneeling at the feet of the half-man half-snake creature, once-immaculate white blonde hair plastered to his forehead, writhing on the ground with his face contorting with pain. Ever since then, Lucius Malfoy had been bordering on insanity. He forgot who he was; he forgot what he believed. He forgot everything. It was like Draco didn't even have a father; it was as if his father had died that night. Lucius now lived on a new code: do whatever for the Dark Lord.

Draco would never forget his mother's tortured screams that sounded like nails on chalkboard to his ears. How could this _half-blood _want to harm his mother, a lady of many faces but still always beautiful and kind and caring underneath the hard mask?

"Do take my arm, Demeire," Riddle's voice cut across his thoughts like an ice-cold dagger. Draco turned to stare at him, only to be greeted with the same, cold glare that was mirrored on his own face.

Draco saw Hermione's face pinched up in disgust as she held onto the smallest area of Riddle as possible. Carefully freezing his face into a stone mask of a passive expression, he swallowed his loathing for the man and grabbed Riddle's sleeve.

The familiar sensation of being squeezed into a too-tight tube made Draco choke slightly, feeling as if an invisible hand was around his neck and stopping the air-flow.

The muscles in the invisible hand relaxed, and the last heir of the Malfoy family gratefully gulped in some air, expanding his lungs until they reached its full capacity. It had been such a long time since he had Side-Along Apparated, and he had long forgotten how much more uncomfortable it was compared to regular apparition.

Before them was Malfoy Manor, looming over them majestically. It glowed a ghostly white, and intricate designs lined the walls. A large, wrought iron gate surrounded the handsome manor house, preventing unwanted people from entering. Beyond the gate were elaborate gardens, the trees looming overhead, elegant vines twirling from its branches as if snakes. The bushes were trimmed carefully, not a leaf out of place, and a fountain was placed in the center, water trickling from the top.

Riddle kept on walking towards the gate, not slowing down as he neared it. Draco ground his teeth together, knowing that the young Voldemort must be one of the select few who could pass through the gate as if it were smoke. In fact, Draco was sure that he himself would be able to pass through the gate because of the Malfoy blood in his veins, regardless of what time and era they were currently in.

"And two guests," Riddle said smoothly, looking like he was talking to air. But when Hermione and Draco inched forward to follow him, the gate allowed Hermione to pass through without harming her in any way.

Two grand doors opened automatically, though no person opened the door from inside, and revealed a beautiful Entrance Hall. The grey stone floor was mainly covered by a soft carpet made of the best material (for Malfoys only got the best of the best). A silver and diamond chandelier hung from the high, Vanderbilt-styled ceilings and glittered above the grand staircase, which divided into two parts near the top. The marble fireplace was lit, and a blazing, roaring fire warmed the entire great room.

Hermione glanced around the large Manor, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. She would not be intimidated by this place, despite having received the end of Bellatrix's _Crucio _once before. She would not back down because of how she had been kept prisoner by the Malfoys. But even so, the size of just the Entrance Hall overwhelmed her, just as it always did, and dwarfed her, making her feel insignificant. A family of five could probably live in this room alone.

Draco, on the other hand, breathed in the familiar scent of the manor with mixed feelings. The smell brought back painful memories of Lord Voldemort's peak of his reign and the cloaked Death Eaters destroying the ancient beauty of Malfoy Manor, but at the same time, it smelt like home. It looked like home, though of course slightly different. It made him remember his Christmases, where his father would give him large, luxurious presents and his mother would secretly slide to him some childhood gifts that his father deemed 'undignified'. It made him remember when the elves would bring on the platters of freshly baked cookies and when he was allowed to wake up late and skip down without changing out of his pajamas. It made him remember his first toy broom and when he laughed without strain, truly happy.

"Malfoy," Riddle greeted, and both 'guests' looked up to see a tall man with pale, pointed features (a prominent Malfoy trait) stalk towards them arrogantly (which was probably yet another characteristic of the Malfoy family).

"My Lo–– Riddle," Abraxas Malfoy answered. From a distance, it would look like they were two Slytherin classmates who were both rather withdrawn. But as Hermione peered closer, she saw little things that distinguished them. While Riddle had spoken first, Abraxas Malfoy inclined his head ever so slightly when speaking to Riddle, and it looked as if the man was avoiding Riddle's eyes. Of course, Abraxas had also stumbled over 'My Lord', only calling him 'Riddle' because of her and Draco's presence.

"How is Lilith?" Riddle's tone was platonic as he asked this, but Malfoy eyed him warily before answering:

"She's fine, thank you. How are you?"

Riddle didn't answer; instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, nodding at Draco and Hermione. "I would like you to check these two for any potions' side affects," he commanded, not even offering an explanation. His voice held a certain authority that made people obey without question. It was full of confidence: a tone that was persuasive yet showed that he still held the upper hand.

Abraxas nodded slowly, clenching and unclenching his jaw. It was apparent that he wasn't used to following orders despite following under Tom Riddle's lead for years. Malfoy men were born to lead, not follow.

Draco's grandfather went towards Hermione first, but before Abraxas even made it to the girl, Riddle stopped him coldly. "No, test Demeire first. I wish to speak to _Hermione." _

Hermione stood stock still, eyes frozen and her entire figure non-moving as Abraxas harshly pulled Draco away. Her mind flew toward conclusions, moving a thousand miles an hour. _Is he just singling me out because he thinks I'm weaker? Is Abraxas Malfoy in on Riddle's plan and is jailing Draco in the dungeons? _But then, another fact registered to her mind. It was something that wasn't nearly as big as a deal, but it mattered.

_Lord Voldemort just called me Hermione._

Lord Voldemort_ just called me _Hermione.

Riddle turned and gave her a smile that sent chills down her spine. When the door clicked shut after the two Malfoys, he reached forward and gingerly held Hermione's hand, holding it so delicately that a bystander would've called it a 'loving touch'.

His smooth, large hand was comparably colder than hers, and the slightest contact sent tingles up her arm. Hermione bit her lip, a part of her entranced while her mind screamed repulsion.

"Dear Hermione," he mused, a strange, dangerous glint in his dark eyes. "There are only a couple of things that makes me considerably bad tempered. Can you guess one?"

Hermione shook dangerously as he lightly traced a thumb over the back of her hand. "I… I don't know," she whispered, fearing that if she spoke louder, her voice would tremble.

"You don't?" Riddle sounded darkly amused now, raising her hand to her eyes for closer inspection. His grey eyes took in every little part of her hand, and she could feel his cool breath on her skin.

She shook her head, unable to find the breath to speak.

A frightening smirk split from his flawless lips, and Riddle lifted another hand to brush away a stray curl from her face.

"_Liars," _Riddle whispered, his face suddenly shockingly close to hers. His cool breath washed over her face, and she held herself tautly to prevent herself from shuddering. "Insincerity. Of course, one might blame me for being hypocritical," he plucked up the same curl that he had pushed back before, staring at the golden streaks through the brown hair, "But that's a different story. Have _you_ been dishonest at all today, Lady Hermione?"

Hermione stared at him with wide, doe brown eyes.

"When Demeire comes back without a trace of potion found on his skin or clothes, will you say that the self-absorbent part of the potion was especially dominant?" Riddle leaned his head to one side, arching his neck. His lips were so close to her neck that if he moved forward ever so slightly they would touch, and Hermione swore that she felt a feather-light whisper of his skin.

"Will you lie, _Hermione?" _Riddle abruptly pulled back, both of his hands holding both sides of her head now. "Will you lie to me?"

Hermione held her breath all together. He knew; _he knew. _She hardly dared to blink as she stood there, waiting for his next move.

"And tell me, _Hermione, _why you are dressed in rags while Demeire is dressed in formal clothes?" Riddle pressed his forehead against hers. "Explain to me, Hermione, why do you not care that your 'grandmother' does not know if you are going to be late or not?"

"I…"

"Will you answer my questions in truth or lies, _Hermione_?" Riddle tsked her like a teacher would to a student. "How do you live in such a life of deceit? Such… _lies… _can change your personality. With one glance, I see your naivety, your purity, and your nobility. But is there something underneath? Are there shadows to your unknown character? Does darkness lurk in your heart? Is there a story to tell? Are you a dark witch, tampering with the Dark Arts, feeling it's lure?"

"You bloody hypocrite!" Hermione shrieked, tearing herself away from him, letting her emotions take over. It hurt her to hear him say such words. Is she not the same Gryffindor as before? Hermione clenched her fists. She was the female part of the Golden Trio, for heavens' sake! She fought on the Light side! Sure, she was darker from the war, but in all due time, she was not _dark. _How dare he try to understand her character? The Dark Arts? Of course not!

"You are _Lord Voldemort, _killer of _Mudbloods, _a person who tortures and is merciless and––" Hermione suddenly cut herself off and froze again.

She could tell from Riddle's smug expression that she had given him all the confirmations that he needed. He was already too much of an expert in manipulation–– reading her weaknesses, her fears, digging into her personality more than she did herself–– and he had guessed everything from the moment he saw her.

"So you know about me, Hermione," Riddle said, his voice poisonously sweet. "Are you a mudblood yourself, seeing the way you defend them?"

**Author's Notes: **So we see more of Tom's personality (: This story is moving rather fast… I hope it's okay. Just a note that I randomly made up the character 'Lilith'. She's not important (right now, anyways) and now plays the part of Abraxas Malfoy's girlfriend.

_We wear the mask that grins and lies,  
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, –  
This debt we pay to human guile;  
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,  
And mouth with myriad subtleties._

_Why should the world be over-wise,  
In counting all our tears and sighs?  
Nay, let them only see us, while  
We wear the mask._

_We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries  
To thee from tortured souls arise.  
We sing, but oh the clay is vile  
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;  
But let the world dream otherwise,  
We wear the mask!_

_-Paul Laurence Dunbar, We Wear the Mask_


	3. Not A Single Teardrop

**Author's Notes: **Long time no see! Sorry for the long delay, guys, I had decided to take an unannounced, temporary, and very brief break from fanfiction last month. I used _some _of the time to decide on the rest of the plot for this story… hopefully it'll all draw out soon. In my opinion, the last chapter went along too quickly, and I'll try to avoid that in the future. Anyhow, thank you all for your wonderful reviews, and do review this chapter!

_Reviewers: smileylol, anangelwithnoname, laurelley, Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace, Cedarchip, HereToRead84, sweet-tang-honney, MidnightThief15, Lost O'Fallon Girl, Edward-is-sexier-than-Mike, avrilavril, Wicked Sapphira, west carson girl, Azera-v, nevermissme, HPmadness12, ginny7777, The Argyle Sweater Effect, sNAPpyDraGon, ridda, nibblehead, daughterofpersephoneandhades, Jaciara, BubbleFairey, azulaiii, PLacIDwiCkedNEss, compa16, AwesomePersonlolxx, darkxangelxreaderx (PM)_

_This chapter is dedicated to darkxangelxreaderx, who sent me a PM asking me to hurry up with the update :)_

O

_"So you know about me, Hermione," Riddle said, his voice poisonously sweet. "Are you a mudblood yourself, seeing the way you defend them?"_

The door suddenly swung open with a bang, and Riddle whirled around, immediately releasing Hermione's hand in the process. Hermione didn't know why, but there was the strangest feeling–– her arm suddenly felt cold and empty, as if a flame that was just extinguished by a strong gust of wind, as if nothing but a weak limb that hung, withering, from her body. She immediately wrenched her arm back, cradling it to her chest, warming it by rubbing her hand along her pale skin.

She saw a flash of annoyance appear momentarily on his perfectly carved face, and her eyes flickered over to where Abraxas stood with Draco in front of him, looking scarily like two identical marble statues that was charmed to move.

Hermione spotted the cold, calculating look replace the earlier vexation on Riddle's face and shivered.

"Tom," Malfoy Sr. Sr. spoke, his grey eyes blank and impassive, "I checked... _your guest… _here for any lingering drops of any sort of potion, and…"

Riddle arched a dark eyebrow, and inquired, "Yes?" His gaze flickered from Draco to Hermione, an expectant expression adorning his features.

"I found the lingering effects of an Invigoration Draught, a Strengthening Solution, Star Grass Salve, Bruise Removal Paste, Burn-Healing Paste, and a… Beautification Potion."

It was dead silent.

"A_ Beautification _Potion, you said?" Riddle mused, his voice light and seemingly normal.

"Y-Yes, I am sure, My Lo- Riddle."

Hermione turned to stare at Draco skeptically, and Draco was turning a wonderful blend of puce and jade green. His eyes were wide and bulging, and, for a split second, Hermione wondered if he truly _did _use a Beautification Potion everyday, and perhaps the potion's effects were wearing off, for he currently strongly resembled a fish. The only thing that convinced her otherwise was the disbelieving looking that crossed his face.

"The Beautification Potion is frequently used as a way to persuade or otherwise convince someone to do as you say," Hermione said quietly, clearing her voice and trying to get her point across without any unnecessary trembles. "It would make sense if Knockturn Alley had a stash of this potion outside."

Tom pivoted around to give her a chilling smile. "Yes, that must've been it. The Beautification Potion, after all, is a self-absorbent and turns invisible after applied; it would most certainly cause a person's body to shut down if overdosed because of the higher and more reactive chemical properties within the potion that changes the features of a person. It is especially dangerous because many people rely on the more shallow aspects of a person, such as how the person looks. It can cause the person's guard to drop, and perhaps a more good-looking person finds themselves in a better situation when trying to persuade another."

Hermione gulped and avoided his penetrating dark stare, and she focused her gaze on Draco, whose skin tone was returning to its normal color.

"On the other hand," Tom said, clasping his pale hands behind his back, "I would like to invite both of you to stay here, at Malfoy Manor, for a stretch of time. In case the potion that spilt in the alley was a dormant potion that becomes active within a week or a month and is in fact _not _the Beautification Potion, it's much more prudent to stay here, where we have many remedies to such dark poisons."

Abraxas immediately opened his mouth to protest, but when his Dark Lord's eyes flickered towards him, an icy edge in those dark orbs, the elder Malfoy immediately clamped his mouth shut.

"Oh, no, that wouldn't do. We wouldn't want to be a hindrance to you or Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said quickly, wetting her lips.

"Abraxas doesn't mind, now, do you?" Tom turned towards the said man with an expression that said that he wouldn't take 'yes, I do mind, actually' for an answer. A flash of fear appeared and faded in Abraxas Malfoy's expression, and the dark look in Riddle's eyes promised a Cruciatus Curse if he did not agree immediately.

Abraxas pasted on a fake, syrupy smile that Hermione had seen Draco give his professors at Hogwarts sometimes and drawled, "No problem, no problem at all. It would be… simply _delightful… _to have you two guests stay here."

"No, there's no need––"

"I _insist, _Miss Hermione," Riddle cut her off abruptly, and her eyes immediately focused on his wand hand, which was twitching slightly, as if repressing the urge to whip out his wand and kill her and be done with it.

Hermione met eyes with Draco, who clenched his jaw and nodded tightly. She took a deep breath and glanced back at the young Dark Lord, carefully avoiding his eyes so that he could not perform Legilimency on her, and said, "All right, Mr. Riddle. Erm… thank you for your hospitality. Draco and I will leave in two days time…"

"…And perhaps even longer, as you and I see fit. Abraxas… prepare a room for these two guests, they must be tired from the effects of the potion."

The eldest Malfoy consented to this order stiffly, snapping his fingers sharply before barking, "Chippy!" In a sharp crack of elf apparition, a skinny house-elf appeared on its knees before its master, its wide, tennis-ball-green eyes blinking widely with fear at its master.

"Prepare two bedrooms and bathrooms for these two guests."

"Yes, Master," Chippy croaked, trembling as it stood up, thin, twig-like legs shaking. He (at least Hermione thought that the poor house elf was a 'he') beckoned Hermione and Draco over to the grand, marble staircase, bowing to the two and squeaking out a greeting before lopping up the stairs, small hands clutching at the soiled rag that hung limply from its body.

The Gryffindor quickly followed the fragile house elf, trying to back away from the two older Slytherins without putting her back towards them. She relaxed ever so slightly when she felt Draco's hand push gently against her lower back, and she knew that he would protect her, if need be.

She felt it. She felt the hot, searing stare prickle at the fine hairs at the nape of her neck, and she just _knew _that Riddle was gazing at her, grey eyes impenetrable and unable to be decoded. The climb up the staircase felt longer than ever as she hustled upwards, doing her best not to stumble.

A brilliant, silver chandelier hung from the high, painted ceilings, glistening and reflecting the bright candlelight and torches that were strewn across the walls. The railing was smooth and flawless as she ascended towards the upper floors, and the stairs had not one single nick in the pure white marble.

She couldn't believe that Draco actually _lived _in this place, later on.

"Miss, Mister, this way, please," Chippy said delicately, ushering them out of the sight of Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy. The darkness of the hall was mysterious and made Hermione's skin creep, but in another way of thinking, it hid her from Riddle's stare…

They passed room after room, some doors closed while some French doors were opened to reveal spacious ballrooms with enormous windows that went from the high ceiling to the polished wooden floor, old-fashioned men's Billiard and Poker leather lounge, a sunroom that was filled with light and was perfect for ladies to gossip and chat, and several more. Every room was carved to perfection–– an old beauty, Malfoy Manor was, but still entrancing and elegant in every way.

"Mister Demeire, your room is on the right, Miss Granger, your room is on the left. There are connecting bathrooms in each room… Please, if either Miss or Mister needs anything, do call Chippy," Chippy announced, giving them each a crooked smile before disappearing in a _snap_.

"I'll come to your room later so that we can discuss… matters," Draco whispered into her ear, before he slunk off, closing his wooden door with a quiet _click. _

Hermione took a deep breath before slipping into her own room, and, unable to hold in a gasp, she gaped at the magnificent beauty of a room. Large, golden draperies hung from the top of the towering windows and lightly touched the carpeted floor. The carpet was a vanilla color, and it was as soft a bird's down…

Soft light streamed in from the windows, and she could see the setting sun from the distance, peeking over the horizon. The sky was a blend of magentas and fiery oranges, and the trees swayed as a strong wind swept across the land.

Hermione lightly trailed her fingers across the bronze, silk sheets that covered her bed, and then touched the bronze, curving design that was the headboard. Several plump decoration pillows were plopped on the gigantic bed, and she could spy layers of light blankets, decoration covers, and comforters that were meticulously placed.

She passed the elegant candleholder, which was magically charmed to light at the snap of the guest's fingers, and walked into the bathroom. A large, pool-sized bathtub was placed against the wall, and gold, silver, bronze, and copper taps hung impressively from the beige, tiled walls. A pedestal sink with emerald handles stood next to the said tub, and a vanilla-and-gold rug was situated in between. Rows and columns of soft towels were placed on a rack, and a massive vanity was placed against the other wall, glass shelves filled with various beauty and hygiene potions, and an imposing mirror stood atop of the glassy table.

Hermione decided that this was a good time as any to take a short bath before Draco decided to come in, and she quickly stripped off the rags that she had been wearing ever since she was caught by the Death Eaters. Hermione barely flinched at the sight of her collection of scars and bruises that lined her sickly pale skin, and she shook her head, her knotted hair beastly.

She lightly tiptoed towards the vanity, her small feet pitter-pattering against the cold floor, and she quickly skimmed the labels on the colorful potions. After slight contemplation, Hermione plucked out the hair cleansing solution (two in one conditioning and shampoo!), Madame Primpernelle's Natural Skin Glowing potion, and Bruise Removal Paste.

She placed them on the edge of the bath, and quickly turned on the water taps; the water level quickly rose, and Hermione slipped into the warm bath with a relieved sigh. After resting for a moment, she began washing her hair and turning on the taps for scented bubbles, relishing the smell of vanilla that was seeping into her skin.

After taming her wild hair, removing the dirt from her nails, and cleaning her skin until it glowed, Hermione sat against the walls of the mini pool, resting her head against the outer edge. She stared at the ceilings that depicted scenes of harmony and happiness using carvings of angels and muses.

She felt something stir in her… something that she hadn't dared let out in a long time…

Sadness.

One would think that being locked up in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor would be filled with tears and screams and mourning and depression. One would think that being tortured mercilessly would cause for her to break.

They would be wrong.

Hermione hadn't cried a single teardrop in that dingy dungeon after a week of capture. She hadn't even screamed through pain… it was hard, and it nearly killed her with the effort that it took to not scream, not cry… but she hadn't. While other prisoners howled out their sorrows and mourned for the lost, she had sat there, eyes blank and stone-like… cold. Broken off from the world. She had shut herself up. The only tears that she allowed were within the first week, which was a result of shock, and when she was angry, so angry, with Bellatrix when she and Malfoy were fleeing.

_Not Malfoy. Demeire._

But now, sitting in a luxurious tub in the very same manor that she had been tortured, every wall that she had carefully built up was collapsing.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

Where was Harry, when he was needed to save the world, yet _again? _Where was Ron, when she needed a shoulder to lean on, to cry on, to hang on to? Where was Professor Dumbledore, when they needed a mentor, a leader, and a powerful figure?

Dead. All dead. There is no more Harry James Potter, no more Ronald Bilius Weasley, and no more Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Merlin, she just wanted to see any Gryffindor face. Other than herself, the others had been killed. They had decided that, because she was a filthy _mudblood _and part of the Golden Trio, _she _deserved to live the most hellish life of all.

She remembered how young Colin Creevey had shouted for his brother, Dennis, to run, run for his life… she saw how two identical streaks of green marked both brothers in the back, and watched the young spirit and life seep out of their bodies…

She remembered Lavender Brown crying for Ron when he died on the battlefield. Ron, oh, Ron… the one whom she had loved so dearly. Why couldn't he see that she loved him? Can he see now, in heaven, that she still loves him? What she wouldn't give to watch him wolf down his breakfast and slurp at his pumpkin juice… if only she could ever see him again.

And Harry… with the hardest damned life in the world. Everyone had depended on the legendary Harry Potter, but it had been too hard… He wasn't ready. He was only a teenage boy who was broken by the number of people who had died around him… Harry hadn't deserved any of this.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, and she let the tears fall. She finally let those tears drip down her cheeks in mourning, in regret, in the deepest feeling of remorse, for the fallen. For her family. For her friends. For her classmates. For the innocent. For those who had deserved to live a life full of love, and hope, and happiness.

And, finally, she cried for herself.

Why did she live? Why couldn't she just die a quick, painless death on the battlefield, knowing that she had fought for what she believed? Why couldn't she just escape out of the mortal world, unscarred? Why was Fate mocking her?

The water began to cool, and the bubbles around her were quickly disappearing. Hermione let a sob rip through her throat, and she wrapped her arms around her naked body, hugging her knees to her chest.

It was always that question. Why? Why? Why? _Why? _

The answer was always the enigmatic, calculating tone: _because that's is how life is_.

Hermione felt her damp curls stick to her skin on her bare back, and she shivered slightly as the warmth from the bath slowly eased its way back out.

"Hermione?" a bass voice came from outside the bathroom, in her bedroom. She immediately recognized Draco's voice, and she bit her lip in realization that _he _had suffered too.

"I'm i-in here. Just… Just wait a moment…" Hermione called, her voice trembling and thick from crying and trying to quickly repress any evidence of it.

There was a pause, and she had to strain to hear his answer, which was murmured so softly that she could only barely hear.

"Okay."

Hermione took several deep breaths, closing her eyes and willing the flow of tears to stop. She thought of brave Harry… _he _wouldn't cry now… he was always strong… She thought of happier times, laughing, shouting in the stands and cheering for Gryffindor at a Quidditch game…

But this had the opposite effect. Another wave of tears threatened to break through when she thought of such merrier times… where were they now? Gone.

Hermione pulled herself out of the bath, and she quickly grabbed a fluffy towel from the rack. Once dried, she found a set of fresh, clean clothes waiting for her on the table–– she had missed them before –– and then pulled on the comfortable robes.

She took another deep breath and forced a smile on her face, dabbing the tears out of the corner of her eyes. "Okay, Hermione… smile… be brave, like Harry and Ron," she whispered to herself, and she resolutely walked towards the door and swung it open.

Draco Malfoy/Demeire was standing at the window, staring out at the darkening sky, his expression unreadable. When she entered, he did not look up; in fact, he didn't even greet her as he just gazed outside.

Hermione walked over to him, and she stood right there, next to him, not touching, not offering some comforting hand, because they both knew that they had nothing to offer but the truth, and the words "it'll be all right" were not any but.

Her hair, not properly dried yet, was dripping water over the expensive carpet, and she felt a trickle of water slither down her back and shifted uncomfortably. Draco wordlessly flicked his wand at her, and she felt her hair dry immediately at his spell.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you," Hermione whispered softly, breaking the silence. She dragged her eyes away from the setting sun and the stars that were beginning to dot the night sky, and repeated, with more emotion, "Thank you."

Draco nodded slowly. "We need to get you a wand."

Hermione smiled slightly. _We. We _need to get you a wand. "Yes."

And that was the end of that conversation.

The two time travelers stood there, their two silhouettes turning darker as the sky did, watching as stars began to shimmer and twinkle and the moon glow brighter against the velvet blackness.

Hermione finally broke the silence, again, and snapped her fingers. Flames leapt up in the candlesticks at her command, and she found that she liked that feeling. She loved magic. It was apart of her… the magic. She may be muggleborn, but the magic had been born with her, and it would obey her, and it would love her.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"About the Beautification Potion..."

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to face her. "It must've been my mother's. She sometimes spritzes some of the Beautification Potion over her hair to make it seem much more glowing than it naturally is. She must've passed me by, and I got a drop of it."

Hermione smiled slightly. "And the other potions?"

Draco's light demeanor changed. "Bruising Paste, Star Glass salve... it's all for my injuries that my father gave me. My punishments," he said quietly. "I felt like any one of the prisoners in the dungeons, except in better conditions."

The Gryffindor didn't dare give him any look of sympathy, for fear that his pride would be wounded.

"How are we going to escape Riddle?" Draco mused quietly, abruptly changing the subject, cocking his head so that he was looking at her.

"I don't know. We came back here to escape… and make a change. We have to change Riddle. Change the time line." Hermione couldn't believe what she was saying. It was against everything that she had been sternly taught…

"It'll be dangerous. Everything will change… our lives, our families, and our friends. Our _world." _

"I know. But we have no other choice."

Draco nodded his agreement slowly, sighing. He turned around and lowered himself into a comfortable chair in the corner. "It may be dangerous to stay here, but I think that we actually should. I know many secrets about this place… and we have nowhere else to go. We can gain Riddle's trust, and then take action, whether it means killing him or…" Draco's face twisted into doubt, "…make him feel remorse."

"Gain his trust? But how will we do that, with the watchful eye he keeps on us? He figured me out too easily… He knows I'm a muggleborn, and that I know more than I should." Hermione continued to explain what had happened when Draco was dragged away for 'potion testing', and he groaned in response, burying his head in his hands.

"Bloody Gryffindors," he cursed, his hair tussled and messy. "Just deny it. Deny that you're a mud–– muggleborn, and, for Merlin's sake, be _convincing. _He doesn't know for a fact that you are a muggleborn, and you've certainly gained his attention. Riddle's got the upper hand. But we'll just have to fight fire with fire, and use Slytherin manipulation against his conniving ways. We have to beat him in his own game. Use his attention for your benefit."

"Think Slytherin, basically," Hermione summarized his plan, and he nodded. "All right… let's beat him in his own game."

O

"_Hello, love." His voice was so charming… so alluring… so perfect. It had the right amount of darkness, and it made it so enticing… _

_No, she would not fall for his tricks; she could not fall for his manipulative plans._

"_I am not your love," Hermione whispered, and she glared at his flawless face. It was as he had said… the shallowness of a human brain makes it so that the more good-looking the person, the easier the persuasion…_

"_Of course, love," Riddle chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through the air. "Now, say… how about we get to know each other better?" his breath blew in her face softly, and she closed her eyes, reveling in how it felt so beautiful, as if a soft breeze. She felt his long fingers lightly graze her cheek, and though it was cold, she felt a surge of magic, of power…_

_It was so irresistible…_

"_Hermione!" a voice, though distant, rang in her head, and she could feel its familiarity… but she didn't want to pull away from Tom. She liked the power…_

"_Hermione!" this time, it was louder, and Hermione's muscles suddenly sprung into action, ripping her away from Riddle and towards the voice._

"_Harry?" she called, her voice echoing. "Harry?"_

_Another low chuckle issued from behind her, and she turned around to stare at Riddle again, who's grey eyes mesmerized her all over again, as if casting a spell over her._

"_Now, Hermione… come back here, love. Come _home," _Riddle whispered, but the impact of the words on her was as if a thousand lightning bolts in her heart._

_Home…_

"_Hermione!" Harry called again, but this time, his voice was fading…_

"_No," Hermione jerked herself away from Riddle, turning around and running towards Harry and calling his name. She felt blades of grass lightly tickle her ankle, and her heart felt warmer as she ran further away from the Dark Lord, towards Harry, towards friends…_

_But she felt weaker. Her magic felt… too tamed. Too… average._

"_Fly, little dove," she heard Riddle murmur softly behind her. "Fly… I always love a good chase, a nice game…" _

Hermione woke up, drenched in sweat.

**Author's Notes: **And that is all for chapter three! This chappie was mainly a filler chapter… not too much Tomione action, but I hope that the dream made up for some of that. Do _review and comment, _because that would make my day!

_The Invigoration Draught: _Boosts the drinker's energy level.

_The Strengthening Solution: _Strengthens the drinker.

_Star Grass Salve: _Made from the Star Grass herb, it has medicinal uses.

_Bruise Removal Paste: _Removes bruises.

_Burn-Healing Paste: _Heals burns.

_Beautification Potion: _A potion that transforms the appearance of the drunker, making them seem to be attractive, even if they are not.

_Don't taint this ground with the color of the past  
Are the sounds in bloom with you?  
Cause you feel like an orchard of mines  
Just take one step at a time _

_And you seem to break like time  
So fragile on the inside, you climb these grapevines  
Would you look now unto the pit of me on the ground  
And you wander through these to climb these grapevines... _

_I'll say it to be proud, won't have my life turn upside down  
Says the man with some, with some gold forged plan  
Of life so incomplete, like weights strapped around my feet  
Tread careful one step at a time _

_And you seem to break like time  
So fragile on the inside, you climb these grapevines  
Would you look now unto the pit of me on the ground  
And you wander through these to climb these grapevines... _

_To know, to feel, to play me once again  
Do you denote from what we feel  
Do you not know, i see you play the game  
Do you denote...  
La flama niposa, la ombra dispare  
La noce immortale, la voce murmure  
To know, to feel, to play me once again  
Do you denote...  
Do you not know, i see you play the game  
Denote..._

_-Globus, Orchard of the Mines_


	4. Pandora's Box

**Author's Notes: **So I finally got around to writing this next chapter, and just recently, while talking to myself (isn't that the first sign of insanity?), I figured out the next few chapters! Yay! This chapter took longer than usual… I was planning on writing it a week ago, but then course selection stuff for next year got in the way. Sorry for any mistakes. A couple of you guys asked if there will be a potential relationship between Draco and Hermione–– eh, not that I have planned. So basically, the answer is no… for now. Anyhow, I hope you guys like this chapter, thank you all for your wonderful reviews, and review this chappie, of course!

_Reviewers: MidnightThief15, anangelwithnoname, Wicked Sapphira, HereToRead84, Lost O'Fallon Girl, cullen's pet, Megii of Mysteri OusStranger, CherryPepsi-Faylese, AwesomePersonlolxx, azulaiii, The Argyle Sweater Effect, PLacIDwiCkedNEss, Zombie Reine, compa16, sNAPpyDraGon, pinkpaws-maurauder, heylittletrain, HPmadness12, west carson girl (2), nibblehead, somebody French, aringle42, Goodness- Rainy, Emily Darkbow, she who reads13, SEHiner _

O

It was still dark outside, a thick, unending layer of blackness covering the sky. Holes dotted the blanket, and little fiery sparks peeped through those holes like hope; hope, the remaining entity left in Pandora's box after Pandora curiously opened what she had been told not to.

Hermione pulled the comforter around her tighter, surrounded in cold sweat. It was going to be light soon, and with the day, nightmares usually faded away. She prayed that this particular dream would disintegrate from her mind. The sound of Riddle's voice echoed in her head, twisting around her and creating a strange feeling that she could not place… Harry's voice drifted farther and farther away from her…

She shook her head. It was only a dream, after all, and dream interpretation meant Divination, and anybody sane knew that Divination was nothing but a fake subject that couldn't be depended on.

All Hermione wanted was someone there to comfort her… She wanted to feel Harry's comforting arms around her, whispering that everything would be okay, and she'd cry into his chest, staining his shirt with her tears, and he wouldn't care about his wet shirt because he was nearly her brother and would always be there for her.

She wanted Ron to make her laugh in the darkest of her times… he was the one who could make her smile even when she was crying; he was the one who could make her heavy heart lift… She loved him; she loved Ron so much that she'd give anything to live a happy, married life with him…

But they weren't there.

Somewhere in her mind, she knew that Draco was there, across the hall, and, despite him being a Slytherin, he had a heart, and he would comfort her. He could be her brother; he could be the person that she would completely depend on for support.

But he wasn't Harry or Ron.

Gryffindors were known for their bravery, their ability to find courage in the dark…

Where was her Gryffindor courage?

Where had her bravery went? How had it all disappeared with a dream, a dream that wasn't even real?

Hermione took a deep breath, watching the sun slowly start its trek across the sky. She pushed away the dream –– it was nothing –– and she'd make it through the days, the weeks, the months, the years, the decades… no matter how long it took her and Draco, they'd succeed in their task.

With an iron resolve, Hermione swore to herself that she'd give her all to change time and rescue Harry and Ron. She'd go against every warning that Professor Dumbledore had given her and change the course of events. At this desperate moment, the careful rules did not apply anymore–– they had to act. She'd save her friends and family and the innocent people who died because of the war, and Hermione was going to do that by changing Lord Voldemort back into Tom Riddle.

And if that didn't work, she'd kill him, either by magic or by using the muggle way.

O

Breakfast at Malfoy Manor was a quiet and awkward affair. Hermione sat in the middle of the long, polished table while Draco sat across from her. Abraxas Malfoy sat at the head of the table, as per tradition, and Tom Riddle sat at the other end, showing his authority. Hermione had clenched her fists when she saw the house elves serving the food, balancing glass and crystal plates on their heads and being hit sharply on the head by Abraxas Malfoy whenever they stumbled slightly.

Riddle had been staring at her nearly all morning, and whenever she gained the courage to look up and glare at him back, he'd give her a mysterious half-smile, only amusement clear in his dark eyes, as if enjoying an inside joke that she could not understand.

This was the third time that she had glanced back at him, and she was once again rewarded with an enigmatic smirk. Hermione felt her eyes draw towards his lips–– those perfectly carved lips that was slightly pulled upwards at the corners–– and immediately looked away, trying her best to keep down a blush.

Hermione angrily gnashed her teeth together–– what was she doing, staring at his lips? She wasn't going to seduce her way into his heart and force love into his cold soul, no: there were too many ways that that plan could go wrong. She had been thinking about ways to change him all morning, and yet, she had come up with nothing except killing him.

Would she, the Brightest Witch of her Age, be able to duel with the younger, less experienced version of Lord Voldemort and live to tell the tale? Somehow, she doubted it. She may be experienced with magic, but he was just as brilliant in his classes at Hogwarts; Dumbledore had told her long ago. Not only that, but Riddle had dark magic on his side, and––

Oh, and she didn't have a bloody wand.

"Mr. Demeire?" Riddle was standing up now, his pale hands pushing him up using the table. "If you would not mind, I would like to talk to you in private."

Draco's eyes widened, flickering quickly to Hermione, who watched with horror.

But how could he politely turn Riddle down?

"I–– of course, Mr. Riddle," Draco answered, his voice emotionless. His eyes were quickly masked, covering any fear, and the words 'Mr. Riddle' sounded forced.

Hermione immediately stood up before the two reached the door. "If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Riddle, Draco and I are as if brother and sister to each other, and whatever you wish to discuss with Draco can be heard by me."

"Miss Hermione, our topic of discussion simply would not be decent to heard by ladies, and I'm sure that our conversation would be of no interest to you. We are merely men discussing business."

Business? Was that a code word for torture? Threats? Murder?

And who was he to reduce the stature of a female!

"I promise you, Mr. Riddle, that even if the conversation is of no interest to me, there is no need to leave the room. 'Not decent to be heard by ladies?' I assure you that I will not be frightened away from this 'business' that you are discussing!"

Riddle merely raised a dark eyebrow, a ghost of another smile working its way to those damned lips. "Do finish you breakfast, _Lady _Hermione, and we'll be back sooner or later," he answered crisply, and before she could say 'Lord Voldemort's about to kill', the two had exited the room.

Someone cleared his throat from her right, and she turned to see an annoyed Abraxas Malfoy, who motioned for her to sit. Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes to find the core of magic in her body. She had to help Draco_, _andshe was absolutely sure that Riddle wasn't going to discuss business matters over tea and cakes with Draco. Concentrating on the magic that was somewhere deep within her, she opened the cage locking in the tamed magic and set it free, letting the magic fill her limbs and body, feeling it run wild––

"_Stupefy!" _Hermione hissed, directing her magic at Abraxas Malfoy, who promptly fell backwards into his throne-like chair. His head was bent at an uncomfortable position, his mop of white-blonde hair disheveled, and his arm was limp by his side.

Hermione felt a burst of pride for using her first bout of wandless magic, and she quickly burst through the large French doors, magic swirling all around her.

She closed her eyes, searching for Draco's presence… _Please, please, tell me where he is…_

Hermione let her feet and magic take over, and a hesitant walk turned into a full-out run towards what was probably the ballroom. She pulled harshly at the bronze door handle, and it flew open as she nearly yanked it off its hinges.

Riddle was pointing his wand at Draco casually, the wand looking like an extension to his arm. His crisp white button-down shirt's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Draco's eyes were screwed tight with pain. A bright red scar with steadily dripping blood was slashed on his pale white cheek, and his wand was lying next to him across the polished floor, just out of his reach.

Riddle immediately turned around to face her when she entered, and his grey eyes narrowed dangerously, darkening, resembling two glints of obsidian on his face. Suddenly, like a passing storm, his expression cleared, and he smiled at her, more than the half-smile from before, but no mirth was available in his eyes.

He approached her like a predator would his prey, his steps slow and calculated. The seconds felt drawn out, and her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. She tried to find her magical core again, but she was not focused enough–– Hermione was panicking, and her heart thrummed like a bird's. She was moving inside, blood pounding in her head, but she couldn't move her body.

A slight movement behind Riddle caught her eye, and she saw Draco reaching for his wand, stretching out a bloodied hand. He met her eyes, mimicked a throwing action at her and then a stabbing movement, and she understood. Draco was going to skid his wand across the floor towards her, and she would kick the wand up to her hand. She would then…

She would then have to kill Riddle.

Hermione knew that Draco couldn't use his wand from where he was. With his shaking hands, he could miss Riddle and hit Hermione instead, or Riddle could grab Hermione and use her as a shield. No, she was the one who had to kill Riddle: there was no other option but to kill him.

She knew that, by killing Riddle, there was always the possibility that some other villain would fight for power. But she could only deal with one person at a time, and she knew that she could not change him. He was too merciless.

Hermione also knew that, after killing Riddle, she and Draco would have to search for his Horcruxes, or at least the ones that were already made.

She was going to kill a person.

Hermione fought back tears, and she could feel nothing but misery and panic. Oh god, oh Merlin, oh––

Draco suddenly kicked his wand across the floor, towards her, and Hermione kicked into her instincts, flicking the wand up to her hands from the ground. She felt tears coursing down her face: she was going to _kill _somebody; she was going to take Riddle's life… this would be the last moment that she would live with no guilt of being a murderer…

No, she had to hate Riddle: she could not feel misery. The Unforgiveable Curses needed the person to really _loathe _the victim… Hermione mustered up all of her hatred, her thirst for revenge, the pictures of Ron and Harry's lifeless faces…

"_Avada Kedavra." _

A flash of green lit the room, and, suddenly, the world went black.

O

Draco stumbled through the darkness of the dungeons, pain coursing down his cheek and his hand. An anonymous Death Eater was pushing him roughly down a flight of stairs, not caring if he tripped. He could hear gruff voices from behind him.

"My Lord, the blonde one is being locked in the dungeons," Abraxas was saying, still irritated from being stunned by a girl.

"Good. He must not escape, or else there will be consequences," answered a cold voice, unmistakably Riddle's. His voice held a dark promise, and Draco shuddered to think of the consequences. He wouldn't be able to escape, and he knew it: the Death Eaters were too motivated by Riddle's threats.

"And the girl, My Lord?"

There was a slight pause before Riddle answered. "Prepare a nice room for her… the most comfortable of your guest rooms. Empty the room of all unnecessary furniture."

"Unnecessary furniture, My Lord?"

"Must I spell it out for you? Anything that could be of interest will be removed: vases with designs, bookshelves, books, and flowers; now _go!" _

Draco heard a bang, and there was a loud patter of a pair of footsteps departing.

"My Lord…" a new voice spoke.

"What now, Nott?"

"My Lord, the girl tried to kill you. If I may be bold enough to inquire… why are you giving her comfortable accommodations?" Nott's voice shook with fear.

A low chuckle echoed throughout the cold hallway. "I have my plans."

"My Lord? What is this plan that you speak of?"

_Wrong move. _Draco knew Voldemort well enough from the future to know that prodding for information and digging at Lord Voldemort wasn't the way to go…

"Did you truly think that I would tell you, of all people, my own plans? Did you truly think that you, a pureblood among many, would deserve to know anything more than those surrounding you?" The temperature in the room decreased ten degrees.

"N-No, My Lord. I… I apologize, My Lord." Nott quavered.

"I have no use for any of you at the moment; you are all _dismissed." _

Footsteps scurried away quickly, dispersing like rabbits.

Draco gripped tightly at the shackles around his wrists. His palms were coated in sweat, and the blood hadn't stopped running yet. The Death Eater who had brought him down was quickly exiting up the stairs, and he knew that he was alone at the moment.

"My Lord, I've locked him to the wall."

"Leave, now." A shadow began inching its way down the dimly lit spiral staircase, and Draco finally saw the pale, ghost-like face of Voldemort in front of him in flesh.

Draco sat silently, his face impassive, as if not concerned that he was in his own manor's dungeon.

"Hello, Demeire," Riddle said, almost pleasantly. He towered over Draco's sitting figure, hands clasped behind his back. "I pray that your breakfast was delicious?"

Draco didn't answer. It was always possible that the food had been poisoned, but he doubted it. Voldemort always liked causing pain with the victim completely aware of what was going to happen.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Demeire."

Silence.

Riddle chuckled darkly, and his wand was suddenly in his hand, his fingers twirling it expertly. "It's rude to ignore a person, did you know? Or did your parents not teach you the proper etiquette of a polite conversation?"

_Bingo. _Draco immediately tensed, unable to keep his muscles from contracting at the mention of his parents. He knew that Riddle was trying to find his weaknesses, and the mention of his family was definitely a sore spot.

Riddle noticed. "Ah… how is your family? Are they missing their son?"

No answer.

"I hope you remember our conversation before, Demeire," Riddle hissed softly. "I can be quite lenient if you abide by my rules. Fail to do so, and there will be _consequences. _Now, _crucio." _

Draco let out a scream of pain as fire lit his blood and ice filled his bones. It felt like a billion daggers were jabbing into his chest, and he couldn't believe that no blood was drawn. He writhed, hitting his head on the stone, his throat becoming hoarse.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the burden of the Cruciatus Curse was lifted from him, and Draco lay, curled in fetal position, boneless and panting on the dirty stone ground.

"That's today's session. I wonder how many more sessions it'll take before you tell me the truth?" Riddle tapped a long, spidery finger on his chin, mock contemplating the situation. "No matter, I have a lot of time, don't you worry." He laughed, the sound reverberating in Draco's head, making him feel sick.

O

Hermione buried deeper into the soft cushions that lay around her. She lay in a pool of silk, the material caressing her like water. Who changed the Gryffindor bedspreads into silk? Whoever it was, she wanted to thank them whole-heartedly––

Hermione suddenly sat straight up, eyes wide. She wasn't in the Gryffindor dorms; hell, she must be in Malfoy Manor, locked up and––

Her brain righted itself, pulling her out of the drowsy sleeping mode that she was in. Hermione flexed her wrists, but found no chains or shackles. Her muscles were slightly sore from the large use of wandless magic yesterday, but, other than that, she found no injuries or signs of capture.

Where was Draco?

Hermione pulled herself to a sitting position with difficulty, her left hand massaging her right arm. She unconsciously flattened her hair with right hand, trying to brush the hair with her fingers, and finally gave up.

The room was spacious, and the light set the room ablaze. The chandelier on the ceiling sparkled and glimmered, and the wooden floors shone. Her bed was covered in layers of silky silver bed sheets and gold pillows. She smiled slightly at seeing the gold in the large Slytherin manor–– a Gryffindor color in the midst of all the royalty.

Hermione stood up, her smile fading. Silently, she tiptoed to the door and grabbed the silver handles, pulling on them with little hope. As expected, the door did not budge. She bit her lip, gnawing on it silently, before padding across the room to the window. It was too high off the ground.

Hermione sat down on the king-sized bed, roughly pulling her fingers through her hair and putting her head between her knees. What were the last events that occurred before she blacked out?

_She aimed Draco's wand at Riddle, who was staring at her with impenetrable grey eyes…_

… _She prepared to cast the Killing Curse…_

… _She shouted 'Avada Kedavra', mustering up all hate and thoughts of revenge as she could…_

… _Green light flashed…_

… _She hated Voldemort so much… She wanted to kill… She wanted him to die…_

… _And… and… _

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, digging through her memories…

… _And he dodged her spell, a flash of surprise appearing on his face…_

… _A spell hit from behind her. _

Hermione collapsed back on the bed, tears beginning to leak out of her eyes once again. _No… Hermione, you must stay strong. Don't cry; don't cry for anybody. _Slowly, she gulped down the lump in her throat, and the water works stopped.

She had failed.

She had one shot to kill Voldemort, just one, and she had failed. She had ruined hers and Draco's chances of survival. She had failed…

Hermione screamed in frustration, digging her fingers into the soft bed and clawing at it in frustration. She took a pillow and threw it across the room, hitting the other wall with a thud. Not satisfied with this, Hermione grabbed the covers and threw them on the ground, stomping on them for good measure. The tears that had just been held back were pouring out once again, and she yanked the table up and flung it at the window, watching as the glass cracked. She narrowed her eyes angrily when she saw the glass seal itself magically, and she flung a wooden chair at it, the chair shattering on impact, but the window did not break.

Hermione growled at the window and threw her fist at it, hissing when she heard something crack in her hand. The window remained intact.

The pain in her hand was pulsing now, throbbing from her fight with the unbreakable window. Fully crying, Hermione fell backwards into a leather sofa, curling into fetal position as she held her broken hand to her chest. Her anger had dissipated, and she now just felt broken: broken and miserable and nothing but a failure. How could she succeed in so many things but fail at the one task that mattered most?

Where was Draco? Was he alive? Was he currently in pain? Hermione felt her mind drifting, and, slowly, she fell into the dream world once again.

O

"_Love, what is wrong?"_

_Hermione was crouched in the long blades of grass, her hand throbbing. Tears were painted on her face, the water from the tears reflecting the little light in the night. The sky was a midnight blue, and there was only a sliver of the moon that could be seen. _

"_Why do you cry, proud lioness?" Riddle crouched down next to her, his dark eyes staring straight into her own eyes. He lightly picked up her injured hand, and when she quickly pulled it away childishly, he just smiled enigmatically and softly held her hand. He stared at the collection of bruises and breaks in the bony hand for a moment before taking out a wand, ignoring as she flinched at the sight of it, and tapped it on her broken hand. The bones moved back together, and the blemishes disappeared from her skin. He kissed her hand softly, brushing his lips against her cold skin._

"_Better, love?" he whispered in her ear, and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Riddle wrapped his strong arms around her slight figure, keeping her warm and safe. The night was debilitating and cold, but she felt safe and strong in his arms. Their magic pulsed, radiating power._

"_We could be great, you know," Riddle murmured, his lips nearly touching her ear. He tightened his arms around her when she tensed. "Your intelligence shouldn't be squandered away on the weaker side. Your magic shouldn't be weakened and tamed by strict professors. You could be so great… _we _could be so strong together…"_

Hermione sat straight up, eyes wide. She looked around and found herself on the bed once again… hadn't she fallen asleep on the sofa? Her heart quickened, and she looked at her hand, gasping as she did.

It was fully healed.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, there will be a lot of dreams in this story. No, Riddle will not be some fluffy guy. It will all come together later, don't you worry. Also, notice that the chapter is titled 'Pandora's box'. For those people who do not know the story of Pandora, below is what I mean by 'Pandora's box.' This idea is an important theme in this story. Do review, people!

_In classic Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman on Earth. Zeus ordered Hephaestus, the god of craftsmanship, to create her, so he did—using water and earth. _

_When Prometheus stole fire from heaven, Zeus took vengeance by presenting Pandora to Epimetheus, Prometheus' brother. With her, Pandora had a jar, which she was not to open under any circumstance. Impelled by her natural curiosity, Pandora opened the box-jar, and all evil contained escaped and spread over the earth. She hastened to close the lid, but the whole contents of the jar had escaped, except for one thing that lay at the bottom, which was Hope. _

_Today, opening Pandora's box means to create evil that cannot be undone._

_Well, I couldn't tell you  
Why she felt that way  
She felt it every day_

_And I couldn't help her  
I just watched her make  
The same mistakes again_

_What's wrong, what's wrong now?  
Too many, too many problems  
Don't know where she belongs  
Where she belongs_

_CHORUS  
She wants to go home  
But nobody's home  
That's where she lies  
Broken inside  
With no place to go  
No place to go  
To dry her eyes  
Broken inside_

_Open your eyes  
And look outside  
Find the reasons why_

_You've been rejected  
And now you can't find  
What you've left behind_

_Be strong, be strong now  
Too many, too many problems  
Don't know where she belongs  
Where she belongs_

_CHORUS_

_Her feelings she hides  
Her dreams she can't find  
She's losing her mind  
She's falling behind_

_She can't find her place  
She's losing her faith  
She's falling from grace  
She's all over the place, yeah_

_CHORUS_

_She's lost inside, lost inside  
Oh oh  
She's lost inside, lost inside  
Oh oh, oh_

_-Avril Lavigne, Nobody's Home _


	5. Just a Dream

**Author's Notes: **Updates will go along faster now that summer is here! Yay! Thank you all for you wonderful reviews. A special mention to _death wish girl_, who was my 100th reviewer! Enjoy the next installment and comment!

_Reviewers: GeeAnnaB, Wicked Sapphira (2), anangelwithnoname, zypherblaze, HereToRead84, LeeshiLou, alannalove1990, MidnightThief15, smileylol, aringle42, AwesomePersonlolxx, death wish girl, BroadwayNightOwl, Avrilavril, MalfoyMushyGusher, [no name] (Martha), west carson girl, sassyfiestycrazychic, sleepdeprived91, RabidChickensPokeAHairyEar, scribblybits, Little Miss English Nerd (3), riddle1rave, lupuslady, , iloveapplejuice, SK, Reviewer _

_Shout-out to west carson girl: _You better prepare yourself for more chappies that end with dreams… I think that'll be happening many times (: My rules for chapters are like this: a) They have to be at least 3000 words long, b) If they are over 7000 words, make two chapters, and c) If it's the last chappie, rule out (b). I've been feeling quite sympathetic for Ron lately… after re-watching the Deathly Hallows part 1, I don't hate him as much as I used to. Nice… the piña colada song (:

_Shout-out to SK: _I do use a lot of similar descriptions for my stories, mainly because each new story is a like a compilation and 'new and improved' version of my older ones. I'm trying my very best to veer away from that! Thank you!

O

The next days were dreary and bleak. It was a continuous, boring routine. Hermione soon suspected that Riddle was going to bore her to death.

The first couple of days were filled with tantrums, anger, and tears. The memories of the happier times brought tears to her eyes, but the thought of her failure fed her shame. She was angry with herself, angrier than she had ever been, and she broke bones in these bouts of self-hatred. Still, though it was easy for her to physically get rid of her anger by throwing chairs and tables, inside, she remained a mess.

She lost count of the number of days when she tried to break the door or the window in hopes of escape. She lost count of the number of days when she would try to summon her magic, only to find it smothered by wards. She lost count of the number of days when she would break down and cry herself to sleep.

Every night, she dreamt. She would 'wake up' in the dreams to velvet darkness, where Riddle would appear next to her and heal her injuries. He would whisper about how great they would be together, and she would push away, most of the time.

Every morning, she woke up and found that her injuries were indeed healed, despite how she had only dreamt of Riddle nursing her wounds.

Every night, she would try to stay awake to catch Riddle healing her, but she suspected that the water that the house-elf would bring was tainted with a Sleeping Draught.

And so, every evening, she would try to keep herself from drinking the water, but was undeniably thirsty every time and could not retain herself. She had tried to starve herself to death, but she wasn't suicidal. At first, she feared that the food and water were poisoned or laced with Veritaserum, but the food and water remained pure.

A house-elf, Chippy, would pop in six times a day. He always appeared with breakfast, lunch, or dinner and would disappear before Hermione could even muster a 'thank you'. Then, he would appear twenty minutes later and collect the dishes without a word.

The next day's clothing was always neatly ironed, folded, and placed on a chair in the corner of the room. Her towels were changed daily, her bed sheets remained clean, and, no matter what damage she would do to the furniture, she woke up to a restored and perfect room.

She became paranoid in her second week of 'imprisonment' and isolation. She knew that Riddle was just trying to lull her into a fake sense of safety.

But, after that week past, nothing happened. And, after two weeks of mourning, attempts to escape, and worrying thoughts for Draco, Hermione got bored.

No one visited her but the elf, and Chippy never stayed long enough to mutter a word. She tried to predict when the house-elf would appear, and, once Chippy discovered what Hermione was trying to do, she began shifting her appearances by three-minute intervals, sometimes arriving early or sometimes appearing late.

Hermione eventually gave up looking for the elf.

But, above all else, she remained healthy.

Hermione's ribs no longer poked through her skin, and her skin regained its former healthy glow. She was well fed, cleaned, and pampered.

But her mind ached for something to do.

She had spent hours devising plans to break out, but none worked. The window, walls, and door were unable to be broken, and magic was prohibited. She couldn't catch the elf and apparate away with him. There was no way out.

There was not a scrap of reading material in the room: not a single sheet of paper lying about, forgotten. She reviewed, word for word, every book in her repertoire. She went through every spell that she knew and reencountered the color, effectiveness, and counter-spell to every offensive curse. She recalled every word, every touch, and every adventure that she had been on with Harry and Ron.

She remembered her parents, gone.

Hermione was grateful that she wasn't being tortured to death, but, even so, after two weeks of remembering…

Hermione remained bored.

O

Draco was in a different predicament.

_Very _different.

He woke up in fear, and he fell asleep in pain. He didn't see of the Dark Lord much, but the Death Eaters used him as a torture toy, and Draco soon discovered many more dark curses than he had ever seen before.

Too bad he discovered those dark curses the hard way.

He didn't think that he could ever get more rotten luck.

He did.

O

Everything about the Malfoy Manor's dungeon screamed 'pain! Torture! Death!' From the unyielding grey stone slabs that were covered with grit to the rusted chains and dried blood, it was certainly not an ideal place to be.

Draco was weak–– weak with malnutrition, undernourishment, and starvation. His clothes were dirty and soiled, and his skin was a sickly pale color–– somehow paler than his skin tone before.

The cellar door creaked open, and a thin beam of light filtered down the stairs before the door closed once again. Multiple footsteps made its way towards Draco's limp form, and he barely summoned enough strength to raise his head.

"Where are your manners, _Demeire? _Don't you know to greet your hosts when you see them?" Rookwood hissed, mercilessly kicking Draco in the gut. He and another Death Eater laughed almost drunkenly, spit flying through the air.

Draco narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth, sneering. "Then is this how you treat _guests? _Now I'm wondering where _your _manners are," he spat before collapsing against the wall, panting from the effort.

"Why, you filthy piece of scum…!" Rookwood launched himself forward, grabbing Draco's arms and yanking him off the floor. The chains pulled on Draco's wrists, trying to yank him back to the ground, and Draco howled in pain, a flash of lightning zapping through his arm.

"_That's _what happens when you mess with _me!" _Rookwood spat, shaking Draco harshly. His eyes glinted maliciously as he punched Malfoy's face, looking satisfied at the sickening crunching sound that followed. "Take _that––!" _

"Stop! Rookwood, stop!" the other Death Eater suddenly shouted, fear lacing his voice. Rookwood froze mid-kick. His face twisted into annoyance and irritation.

"What, Avery? Can't stomach it? Too scared?"

The Death Eater named Avery shook his head fervently, eyes wide. His lips twisted in disgust at the jibe. "No! Look at his arm, Rookwood! That's _His _mark, the Dark Lord!"

"What––?"

"_Look, _goddamnit!"

Rookwood peered at Draco's wand arm, and, sure enough, a black Dark Mark was tattooed into his pale skin.

Rookwood's grasp on Draco's arms tightened. "How did you get that, you filth? Did you think it'd be funny to tattoo the Dark Lord's mark into your arm? Is that it? Thought it'd be a hilarious joke?"

"Nuh-No––"

"Huh? What was that?" Rookwood leered, shaking the blonde once again.

"Rookwood––"

"Enough." A cold voice silenced them, and dread spread through the young Malfoy's veins. Instinctively, he tried to hide his mark, but Rookwood's hands were iron strong and unyielding.

Tom Riddle.

Lord Voldemort.

Draco felt Rookwood tense, and the Death Eater immediately turned around and sunk to the floor in front of his master, arms still around Draco's wrists.

"My Lord…"

"If you cannot control your temper, Rookwood, you may _leave. _The same is applied to you, Avery," Riddle said pleasantly, a deadly edge to his fake façade. The two Death Eaters shrunk back into the shadows.

"My Lord, on his arm!" Avery sputtered out, meekly glancing up to see his master's face.

He was ignored.

"Good morning, Demeire. I pray you slept well?" Riddle arched a perfect eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Draco swallowed and stayed silent.

"Good, good. We haven't spoken in a while, have we? It has been quite a long time. How are you faring?"

Draco dared not speak.

"Not feeling talkative today, are we? I'm sure that you'll feel more… inclined, shall we put it… to speak later. I can be quite _persuading _when need be. Now, let's start with the basic questions, Demeire. Where are you from?"

Silence.

Riddle shook his head disappointedly. "Now, surely you can manage a truthful answer to such a simple question? Or do you suffer from memory loss?"

"England," Draco croaked, clearing his throat. Blood gushed from his broken nose, and his voice came out nasally. "I'm from England."

The young Dark Lord nodded, as if this piece of information was useful. "That's a start, Demeire. Let's try a harder question, shall we? What is the relationship in between you and Miss Granger?"

Draco blinked rapidly. "Acquaintances."

"Acquaintances? How peculiar. I was under the impression that you were… _friends. _After all, you were both visiting Miss Granger's _grandmother." _

He swallowed, avoiding Riddle's eyes.

"Tell me about Miss Granger's grandmother, Demeire. Is she kind?"

Draco's Slytherin instincts kicked in, and his voice sounded strong when he answered, "Yes."

"And she lives where?"

"Surrey," Demeire/Malfoy thought quickly, keeping at one-worded answers.

"I see," Riddle said softly. His wand appeared in his hand, and he held it casually, as if he hadn't tortured and killed tons of people with that wand. "And you were on your way to this grandmother via Knockturn Alley?"

"It was… a Flooing accident. I by accidentally said 'Diagonally' instead of 'Diagon Alley' and arrived at Knockturn Alley instead."

"Both you _and _Miss Granger?"

"No… she… she went looking for me. A friend of hers once made the same mistake."

Riddle's eyes were dark and unreadable. "You and Miss Granger went to Diagon Alley to get to Surrey?"

"No… Granger wanted to… get a present for her grandmother before arriving."

There was a pause in Draco's interrogation, giving him some time to think through his story. Were there any loopholes? Was there something that didn't make sense?

"You call her 'Granger'. Why is that?"

"Habit."

Riddle shifted his weight to another foot. "You and Miss Granger were walking through Knockturn Alley when the potion spilled on you?"

"Yes… I… I don't really remember it. It's just a blur."

There was another pause, a longer silence, and Draco began to sweat in panic. Lord Voldemort was hard to fool–– only Severus Snape ever fooled him, and Snape had eventually met his harsh ending. Riddle would know that he was lying… Draco's heart pounded in his chest, staring unseeingly at the cold floor.

"I once warned Miss Granger about lies," Riddle mused, a frightening smile appearing on his face as he recalled the memory. "She was so easy to manipulate… such a smart and powerful woman she is, Demeire, but yet, so… pure? Raw?" He leaned forward, studying Draco's blank face. "No one has dared to shape her into someone better... yet. With that kind of potential… it's a shame that no one ever recognized it until a couple of days ago.

"But now, we are getting off-topic. I say again, I once warned _Hermione _about lying. Liars make me want to… _kill, _let's say," Riddle murmured, his eyes beginning to darken with hate.

Draco knew that he was not exaggerating.

"You see, Demeire. I would hate to forcefully collect your memories from you. But the world has provided so many options… Legilimency, for one; Veritaserum, for another. However, there are _other _means in which the subject is completely compliant and will _beg _to give the truth."

Draco froze.

"_Crucio." _

O

"_Hermione," he whispered, his arms wrapping around her. His lips lightly brushed against her ear, and though his skin was cold, his arms and lips left a burning trail of fire._

_Hermione pushed away from him, but it was half-hearted. It was a dream, after all, and she was tired of fighting against him every dream that she had. _

"_You're not hurt this time," Riddle murmured, sounding satisfied. His dark eyes flickered towards hers, and they gazed at each other for a moment, content with the silence._

_Hermione broke the stare, looking away. "Why are you always here, waiting for me, in my dreams?"_

"_I'm just a part of your dreams, Hermione. A figment of your imagination," he whispered the words that Hermione had so readily believed in._

"_Why are you always here? How are you so… real?" Hermione glanced up at him with a child-like curiosity. She hesitantly reached forward and touched his shoulder, as if trying to test if he was tangible. His skin was hard and smooth, and she quickly withdrew her hand after satiating her interest. _

_Riddle did not answer her question. Instead, he lightly held her hand, tracing circles across the delicate skin. "Do you believe in fate, Hermione?"_

"_No."_

"_Suppose that you were fated to become great?"_

_Hermione wrenched her hand out of his light hold, pushing herself away from his embrace. She folded her arms across her chest, eyes narrowed. "That is not fate. I studied and worked hard to gain the magic and intellectual level that I have now."_

_The young Dark Lord took a small, harmless step towards her, head cocked to one side. His face was deceptively innocent. "I am not talking about your intelligence or the number of spells that you know. You have something that would not be tested by some professor." _

"_What?"_

"_Your magic… it's stronger than most. It's not just studying that makes you exceptional… your magic pulses with life."_

_Hermione sniffed. "Your careful flattery will not affect _me, _Riddle. You may be cunning, but I can match your level."_

_However, instead of being disappointed that his plan was failing, Riddle smiled, a large smile that gave him a sly, snake-like look. There was nothing innocent about it–– it sent chills through her._

"_See how clever you are? You would've been a Slytherin if you had attended Hogwarts."_

_Hermione immediately bit her tongue to refrain herself from shouting out that she was placed in Gryffindor. Riddle could not know that she ever went to Hogwarts or else it would arouse even more suspicion._

"_Join me, Hermione," Riddle whispered charismatically. His voice was persuasive but not pushy–– it was perfectly balanced–– no desperation was audible, but there were compliments that were hidden within those three words. "I can teach you to control and use all of your magical potential. Together, you and I, we would be unstoppable."_

"_Unstoppable to do what, Riddle?" Hermione grit her teeth, eyes flashing. "Rule the world? Take away all of the muggleborns?"_

"_Why, my love, would I kill the muggleborns when you yourself are one? I would not dare to downsize you." There was a new mocking edge that Hermione sensed was a peek into his true character–– his cold, calculating, and pitiless soul._

"_I have no desire to rule the world."_

"_You have a desire to unleash your magic."_

"_I would unleash my magic… if not at another's expense."_

_Riddle grabbed her wrist and used his other hand to tilt her chin up. He towered over her–– he was probably a foot taller–– and his large stature intimidated her. However, Hermione refused to appear frightened._

"_Careful, love," Riddle hissed, his eyes glinting red for a brief moment. "I know a powerful witch when I see one, but unless the said witch is on my side, she is a threat, and all threats are to be removed. I would hate to waste such a talented woman." _

"_But you are also a threat to me. How about Draco? What are you doing to him?"_

"_Demeire will be useful."_

_Hermione froze for a moment before she snorted in disgust, turning away from him. "But what does it matter? This is only a dream, a figment of my imagination," she mocked, echoing his previous words._

_Riddle threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the dark, enigmatic night. "That is one of your weaknesses, love. There is only so much that you can do with logic… you forget that intuition is what saves most people in the end. Is this dream just a figment of your imagination?"_

"_You said so yourself!"_

"_Like you, I can lie. However, I lie much more effectively." _

Hermione groaned as she woke up, rubbing her eyes. The dreams were tiring her out.

For the first time, Riddle had threatened her. For the last couple of weeks, he had been sickeningly _kind _and _understanding _in her dreams_, _and it made Hermione ill just thinking about how fake everything was. She knew that Riddle was beginning to get impatient and that he was going to show his true colors soon.

She was afraid of him, there was no doubt about it. He was magically capable of limitless things, ranging from the most powerful wards to the most intensely painful curses.

Why did he want her on his side? Did he truly think that she, Hermione Granger, mudblood, friend of Harry Potter (though he didn't know that), would obey him like a dog to its master?

_It's just a dream; remember? _

Hermione grabbed her head, shaking it as if trying to clear the confusion. The dreams were too real to be 'just dreams'–– she would always remember in perfect clarity what had happened in the dreams. Furthermore, she always _knew _that she was dreaming–– lucid dreaming was not an every night occurrence.

Whenever she had wounds, she would dream of being healed. Sure enough, she was healed the next morning.

There had to be some… connection, some bond, in between her and Riddle.

She shuddered to think of any sort of bond with Lord Voldemort.

Hermione looked around the room, sighing as she took in its flawlessly perfect appearance.

But there was something different.

Her eyes landed on an area in the corner that had been empty before. Replacing the air was an antique mahogany bookshelf that had four shelves and the Malfoy insignia at the very top, glinting expensively. One single book was placed on the third shelf from the bottom, a thin volume.

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief–– a book? It was too good to be true! She leapt off her bed and padded towards the bookshelf, peering at the book and never taking her eyes off of it.

Was it cursed?

Hermione bit her lip, desperately wanting to just grab the book and devour it. She looked around and picked up a wooden chair. Clumsily, she placed one of the wooden legs on the book, praying that nothing would happen.

The chair was fine.

Feeling silly, she dropped the chair back to its original location and hesitantly picked up the book, squeezing her eyes shut and preparing for pain.

Nothing.

She let out a sigh of relief and inspected the cover. It was a simple book with a paperback cover and relatively fresh pages. Titled 'The Works of Herpo the Foul', the cover was a blank blue page with the title in black letters.

Hermione carefully opened the book, preparing, once again, for an onslaught. Once again, nothing happened. She bit her lip, glancing around. She knew that Herpo the Foul was one of the earliest known Dark Wizards who created much of the Dark Arts himself, and reading about him would be… indecent?

But she was bored.

And she had just been presented with Herpo the Foul's _original work. _

So on she read.

_Introduction: The Dark Arts_

_It is common knowledge that a person who tampers with the Dark Arts is indeed a Dark Wizard who should not be trusted, but it is, in my belief, the very same prejudice that rules between purebloods and muggleborns._

_The Dark Arts is not always used to harm for no particular reason. A person who uses the Dark Arts has his/her own reasons to use it–– whether it is revenge, a cover for weakness, or anything. To take away certain spells just because they _may _cause harm to another individual is against the laws of free will of wizards and witches. Magic has been blessed and given upon us, so why can we not use all of the provided spells and curses that have been blessed to us? Why should we push away Merlin's gift of magic?_

_Someone in life must push forward and find magic beyond the minds of the ordinary citizen. Someone in life must push beyond the limits of the simple wand incantations and simple waves of a wand. Someone in life must discover._

_I have taken it upon myself to discover and do the work that many would not dare to do. _

O

"_Crucio." _

Draco let out a hoarse scream, shrieking when his body writhed in pain. The movement hurt too much… everything hurt. Every cell in his body felt as if it was ice cold and in flames at the same time.

Why couldn't he just die? Avoid the pain… Anything, to take away the pain…

"Let me ask you the questions again, shall we? And perhaps, you'll be much more truthful this time. What were you doing in Knockturn Alley?" Riddle mused, tapping his wand on his thigh. His lips were curled into a disdainful sneer, and his eyes reflected the eagerness of causing harm and retrieving information.

"I… I don't know…" Draco choked out. "P-Please… no pain…"

"You don't know? Perhaps some more pain will persuade you to tell the truth?"

"NO! Please, I really don't know why I ended up in Knockturn Alley!"

Riddle's eyes turned a bloody shade of red, his hand curling into a fist around his wand. "Last chance, Demeire." A sadistic smile followed.

"_No, please! _No more pain, no––"

"_Crucio," _Riddle said lazily, watching dispassionately as Demeire screamed in pain. He remained emotionless as Draco clawed at his own neck as if trying to get out of his skin, and was still pitiless as his prisoner flopped down on the ground, unconscious.

"We're done for today. Prepare the Veritaserum for tomorrow, Rookwood." The Dark Lord stalked out of the prison, his expression cold and soulless, the Dark Mark that was burned onto Demeire's arm weighing heavily in his mind.

**Author's Notes: **A rather important chapter, I do think. Even though nothing too much happened, there was a lot of foreshadowing. I'm still setting up the stage, so bear with me. Do comment, everyone!

_We've been seeing what you wanted, got us cornered right now  
Fallen asleep from our vanity, might cost us our lives  
I hear they're getting closer  
Their howls are sending chills down my spine  
And time is running out now  
They're coming down the hills from behind_

_CHORUS  
When we start killing  
It's all coming down right now  
From the nightmare we've created,  
I want to be awakened somehow_

_When we start killing it all will be falling down  
From the Hell that we're in  
All we are is fading away  
When we start killing..._

_We've been searching all night long but there's no trace to be found  
It's like they all have just vanished but I know they're around  
I feel they're getting closer  
Their howls are sending chills down my spine  
And time is running out now  
They're coming down the hills from behind_

_CHORUS _

_When we start killing...  
_

_I feel they're getting closer  
Their howls are sending chills down my spine  
And time is running out now  
They're coming down the hills from behind_

_The sun is rising  
The screams have gone  
Too many have fallen  
Few still stand tall  
Is this the ending of what we've begun?  
Will we remember what we've done wrong?_

_CHORUS_

_When we start killing...  
When we start killing..._

_-Within Temptation, The Howling_


	6. Silenced Temporarily

**Author's Notes: **Here I am with chapter six! I bet you are itching for some real-life Riddle and Hermione encounters, but you'll have to wait one more chapter. Some of you are wondering about the dreams that Hermione have–– all will make sense soon, do not fear! Tom's intentions and the extreme differences of treatment with Draco and Hermione shall reveal itself in this chapter! Also…_ who is pumped for the Harry Potter Deathly Hallows Part II release? _I'm not sure if I'm seeing the premiere, but I'm excited for it! Well… I'm kind of feeling contradicted, actually. I'm sad to see it go, but I really want to see the last movie. _Anyways, _thank you all for your reviews, and please review this chappie!

_Reviewers: sassyfiestycrazychic, sweet-tang-honney, gleeislove, booksandmusicandmusicandbooks, ginny7777, smileylol, mekom, HereToRead84, AwesomePersonlolxx, Wicked Sapphira, aringle42, Little Miss English Nerd, Lost O'Fallon Girl, MidnightThief15, TwilightGirl100195, nibblehead, RabidChickensPokeAHairyEar, anangelwithnoname, azulaiii, Glitter Poisoned My Blood, MalfoyMushyGusher, ellenloveforever, Anon, yoyoyo, west carson girl, KThxBai, Cedarchip_

O

_Part I: Building Strength_

_To master the Dark Arts, a person must be able to gain full control of the basics. A simple spell, like the Stunning Spell, should be practiced until the result is that the Stunning Spell produced by the caster is double the strength of a normal Stunning Spell. _

_Furthermore, the person must learn wordless and wandless magic. Wordless magic, a simple concept learned at the teenage years, should be practiced until it takes little to no effort to use wordless magic. This trains the relationship between a wizard/witch and their wand, thereby securing the tie of magic. _

_Wandless magic is much more complex. Only the most ambitious and strongest witches and wizards can manage to do a simple spell using wandless magic. Because of the lack of wand, wizards and witches use their own magic that is inside of them rather than the core of the wand, which has magical properties. Because most wizards and witches have grown up using the extra strength of a wand, wandless magic will result in weaker spells._

_If a wizard or witch is ambitious and determined enough, they may master wandless magic and use it with as much strength and power as they usually do with a wand. _

_With this extra strength and power of their magic, the wizard/witch is strong enough to master the Dark Arts. Only the strongest and most intelligent, however, will be able to do more than a simple Killing Curse with a wand. _

_I have mastered more than just casting petty little 'Avada Kedavra' spells at nosy people. Wandless Dark Magic… it is my dream, and it is my goal, which is now fulfilled. There are things beyond what people can imagine… Horcruxes, which will make the person immortal, Necromancy, the art of raising the dead, the most lethal poisons that will make people rather die than suffer any longer, and the most torturous spells that can be used to draw information. _

_Injuries with Dark Magic will never fully heal. Who wouldn't want their enemy to be painfully reminded every time they look at the scar across their arm? People warn me that my soul has been damaged from the amount of Dark Magic that I have used. My soul? Pah! I need no soul: there is nothing and no one that matters anymore._

Hands shaking, Hermione placed the book on her lap, eyes closed. If she hadn't been so bored, she wouldn't have read the dark book in the first place.

The next parts were instructions on how to do such Dark things, she knew. Hermione didn't know if she dared to read such cruelty… But curiosity was her Achilles' heel, and she couldn't simply leave a book unfinished like that! Never in her life had she ever returned an uncompleted book…

But, then again, never in her life had she read such a dark book like the one in her hands.

People said that the Dark Arts were alluring and addictive. As she read on, she felt no pull towards the words other than her usual want to know everything.

'_It can't do much harm if I'm not affected by it,' _she thought, glancing down at 'Part II: How'. As long as she didn't become a dark witch, it didn't matter if she knew more dark spells than an average person. She never bothered to be 'average' anyhow.

_Part II: How_

_Wandless Magic: the inner chakra of a human being can be found either by intense concentration or by a relaxed meditation. Once found, the witch or wizard can open the door leading to their tamed magic and open it, setting it free. With repeated practicing, the witch or wizard can learn to control and shape their magic, building the strength and aiming with more precision. _

Below the paragraph was a list of spells, the darkest of spells that she had never heard of. There was a chart that was divided into three columns: the name of the spell, the incantation (if any), and the purpose.

Hermione glanced at a couple, memorizing some (just to store, never to use, of course) before her eyes drifted up the first paragraph.

What if she were to strengthen her magic by trying wandless magic? It wasn't as if wandless magic was dark… Professor Dumbledore did it! Furthermore, learning wandless magic may help her get out of Malfoy Manor, and she could plan and try to get Draco out of wherever he was, and they could figure out how to deal with Tom Riddle…

Hermione splayed her fingers across the ink as if to feel the slight ups and downs of the letters on the paper. There were no downsides of learning wandless magic. It wasn't dark, it would strengthen her, it could help her and Draco escape, and it wasn't as if she had anything else to occupy her time with.

Hermione sat down on a leather coffee table that was placed in the center of the room… leather coffee table? She was sure that it hadn't been there before. Eyes narrowing slightly, she placed herself on top of it precariously before she finally relaxed after a moment.

The leather coffee table was soft enough to provide comfort, unlike the wooden chairs, and it was also hard enough to keep her from wobbling around (which would break her concentration), unlike the bed. She balanced herself on it and folded her legs into criss-cross applesauce position and placed her hands on her knees, breathing out slowly.

The sunlight streaming in was soft and indirect, making it so that it wasn't harshly lit upon her makeshift meditation seat. The slight warmth that it brought loosened her tense muscles, and she felt herself drift as she felt her body numb, not in the way that coldness numbed your fingertips, but in a good way, like when asleep.

Now, she had to relax her ever-so-busy mind. This was hard work, mind you, seeing as her brain was already analyzing the new additions to her room: the book, the bookshelf, and the coffee table.

Then, her mind drifted towards wandless magic, thinking about how great it would be to be able to achieve such a feat, and Hermione began thinking about not thinking, which only made her think more.

She let out a frustrated breath through her teeth. _Shut up, brain! _

_I'm not thinking; I'm not thinking; I'm not thinking; I'm not think––_

Hermione curled her hands into fists, tensing all of her muscles, before she slowly let them relax, one by one. It was supposed to relieve stress, and perhaps it would help her gain a nice and long meditation period…

_I'm not thinking––_

_Dammit! _

O

Riddle stood in front of the limp form of Draco Demeire, his eyes cold and calculating. He felt slight satisfaction at the sight of the arrogant man lying by his feet, and he felt sadistic anticipation for the torture that would surely endure for Demeire.

"Good morning. I do hope that you're feeling more talkative on this fine day?" Riddle asked pleasantly, twining his spidery fingers together and leaning against the cold walls casually.

Demeire groaned in pain as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Dark, bruising bags colored the area under his eyes, and his paler-than-usual skin stretched over his high cheekbones painfully.

"I suppose not. Let's commence with a couple of questions, shall we?" Riddle flicked his wand, and Demeire was thrown into the air and smacked against the wall. Draco groaned again, stars appearing in his vision.

Riddle kept his wand aimed at his prisoner, hovering him. "Explain to me why you have my mark on your forearm." He flicked his wand expertly, and Draco's arm was forcibly turned outwards so that the palm of his hand was facing outwards and the Dark Mark was writhing on his pale arm.

Draco hung his head downward, mainly because he was unable to muster the strength to lift it, but also to avoid Riddle's dark and clever eyes.

"_Incarcerous." _Shining black ropes obediently leapt outwards and bound Demeire to the wall. Riddle swished his wand, and a slash of blood appeared on Draco's neck, and Draco whimpered. The slash seemed to be extending slowly, pressing deeper into his throat.

"_Why do you have my mark on your forearm?" _Riddle repeated as Draco's eyes displayed panic. The faster he stopped the wound from expanding, the better.

"You–– you initiated me when I was sixteen!" he hollered.

"No, no I did not," Riddle said coldly, and the slash reached halfway around Draco's neck. "Tell the full, complete truth, Demeire, and I will reward you. I am, after all, a merciful lord."

The trickle of blood and the tearing of skin began to travel downwards to his chest. Draco yanked at the bindings, grey eyes wide with horror.

"It was… It was in a different time period! Please, I swear…" Draco panted. The wound began to burn, burn as if were lit on fire.

"A different time?" Riddle mused quietly. "Elaborate."

Draco shook his head, feeling blood in his mouth.

"_Crucio." _The prisoner howled in pain, and the blood only poured out of his wounds faster as Draco writhed in the air. The black ropes creating rope burns on his skin, adding to the collection of scars that was spread all over his body.

"Elaborate," Riddle hissed.

"Please! Please… I'll tell you everything… Please!" Draco begged, the slash beginning to twine around his legs, as if a snake.

Riddle lifted the curse, giving him a sneering smile. "How about a deal? You tell me everything, and _I'll _tell you everything. Every truth that you tell will heal parts of the scars. Go on, Demeire."

Draco swallowed. "We… We are from the year of 1998. The… The battle of Hogwarts… You…"

"Do be more coherent, Demeire," Riddle said, though his eyes were much more alert now. The curse seemed to be undoing itself, or going backwards, because the blood was disappearing from Draco's legs and the skin was sealing itself.

"You… You became Lord Voldemort, and you won over England…" Draco whispered, his eyes crazed from the pain, but telling the truth. He hardly knew what he was doing, but after the countless days of torture, this was his breaking point, the point in which he could endure no more pain. "Granger… she was on the other side of the war… she was a prisoner… and… I helped her leave… but I swear, I helped you in the war, I did… I'm a Malfoy, Draco Malfoy…"

"Go on."

"She used runes and… transported us to this time… to change the war… and we just suddenly appeared in Knockturn Alley," Draco suddenly went limp against the ropes, breathing heavily. The wounds were healing themselves as he spoke, and when he finally finished speaking, he was nearly scar-less.

"_Legilimens," _Riddle hissed, and an array of colors greeted him. He flicked through Draco's memories, wanting to see everything for himself, and then finally pulled away, satisfied with the results, leaving Draco even weaker than he had been before.

A part of him was disgusted. Could that bald and hairless man be _him? _Surely not? But, no matter, he had become Lord Voldemort, and becoming Lord Voldemort was all that he had ever strived for.

Riddle had a thoughtful look on his face as he paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. It was certainly a surprise that the two were time travelers… it made things very interesting, and little interested him these days. "Thank you, Demeire… Malfoy," he leered. It had been too easy to extract the information from the young Malfoy, and he admitted that he was slightly disappointed from the lack of fight.

"I did promise some information in return, didn't I?" Riddle smirked, glancing up at Draco, who was hanging from the ropes above him. "Let's see… my plans, yes. Well, firstly, I fully intend on killing you."

Draco flinched and pulled at the ropes.

"Perhaps that's the end of the Malfoy line, once and for all. The Malfoys are too arrogant and independent for my liking, anyhow," Riddle cocked his head to one side. "You've probably wondered where dear Hermione is. She's in the best guestroom that Abraxas can offer.

"I sensed her powerful magical aura the moment I saw her, you see. You say that she fought on the other side of the war? Pity, she would've been a great person to have on my side. However, I fully intend on changing her. A curious creature she is! I left her in a room with nothing to do, and let her be bored for weeks. Recently, I left her a dark book, written by Herpo the Foul himself! A bookworm like her couldn't resist reading it, naturally. She will deny feeling any pull towards the dark arts, the naïve and pure thing. But what she doesn't know is that she will slowly change as she reads Herpo the Foul's clever words.

"It takes a lot of hatred to resort to Dark Magic," Riddle chuckled, eyes flashing red for the briefest of moments. "So I think that one more push may help. You say that she was on the losing side of the war, which means that she's lost many friends, am I right? I'm guessing that all that she has left is _you. _

"Of course, I'll give her a moment of happiness. I'll send you to her, and she'll be happy to see you, and you two can discuss how to leave Malfoy Manor, but, as you should know, the ancient magic of Malfoy Manor only bends to the will of its masters, and you won't be able to escape. Do you know what hurts more than losing something? Briefly losing something, gaining it, and then losing it permanently. I'll even kill you in front of her, nothing personal, Malfoy."

Draco, slowly pulling out of his haze of pain, pulled at the bindings, finally realizing what he had said to the Dark Lord. He couldn't have.. He just…

He had told everything to Him. The Dark Lord knew about their time traveling; he knew about the _war… _

The impact of his actions hit him like a slap in the face, and he hung his head, ashamed. He hadn't been strong enough. He couldn't resist the pain. He was weak.

"You two being time travelers also makes sense. It explains why I have this… bond with her. I've been finding myself wandering into her dreams, and just a week ago, I've started controlling them. Manipulating her. Because she cast such a powerful rune spell, a thin stream of that magic has attached itself to one person. When she first opened her eyes, she saw me, and therefore, there is a bond between us. There is also a weak bond between her and whomever she was thinking of while she was casting the spell.

"Now, I can't have you spilling these secrets to her, now can I?" Riddle arched a perfect eyebrow. "You won't tell her, will you?"

Draco shook his head quickly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

"No matter. You will soon find that every time you try to tell her what I've said to you, you won't be able to," Riddle flicked his wand, and Draco was sent crashing to the ground. "Avery!"

The Death Eater immediately scurried down the steps and slid to his knees before the lord, forehead touching the floor.

"My Lord?" he croaked.

"Bring him to Miss Granger," Riddle directed, a scarily satisfied expression on his perfect, flawless face. Such deceptive, handsome looks! "Bring him back here at nightfall, and then back to Miss Granger in the morning. Repeat this pattern… Am I clear, Avery?"

"Y-yes, My Lord," Avery whispered, hurrying to grab Draco by the neck and pulling him up the stairs.

When Avery opened the door that guarded the dungeon, Draco was nearly blinded by the light that enveloped him. It had been weeks since he last saw light… everything in the dungeon had been dark, including the magic.

He paused to adapt to the light, his eyes stinging at first, and then saw his surroundings. Draco ignored the small noise of impatience that Avery made, and then allowed himself to be pulled across the room and up the grand staircase.

Draco dragged his feet and was quickly tired from his trek up the stairs: his body was still weak from the torturous curses that had been set upon him. Though Riddle healed any exterior harm, he still had trouble standing and walking.

O

Hermione let relaxation seep into her bones, cherishing the feel of peace. It had taken hours for her to achieve this feat, and a flash of achievement and pride distracted her for only a moment before her relaxed once again.

She drifted in her soul, and she felt a warm source of light within herself, pulsing and radiating power. When Hermione neared her magic, she saw a strange mix of white and blue flames, and even before she touched it, she could feel the intensity of her magic… was everyone's magic this strong?

A sharp knock on the door broke her concentration, and she gritted her teeth, irritated. All that work, down the drain!

But soon, the irritation turned to curiosity. Someone knocking on the door? No one visited her but the elf, and the house elf always apparated in. Was this a change in routine? Hermione felt a trickle of fear squeeze at her chest. What if it's Riddle? What would she do?

The door opened abruptly, and a pale young man was thrust into the room roughly before the door slammed shut once again. Hermione gasped, her hand at her throat, as she peered at him.

"_Draco?" _

**Author's Notes: **I know, I know! This chapter is shorter than all of the others, but this was a nice point for me to stop, so I did. I'm really not impressed with this chapter at all (Draco's torture, I think, was somewhat choppy and too fast), but after editing it a billion times, I decided to just leave it like that. The song below is by Demi Lovato. I'm really not a fan of her music, but this song really struck me as deep and emotional, especially if you add the fact of all the troubles that she's been going through. The song doesn't relate directly to this chapter, but relates to Hermione's determined character. Please review and give me your thoughts!

_What to look forward to in the next chapter: _An actual, face-to-fact meeting with Hermione and Riddle! Finally!

_Skies are crying  
I am watching catching teardrops in my hands  
Only silence, as it's ending, like we never had a chance  
Do you have to make me feel like there's nothing left of me?_

_CHORUS_

_You can take everything I have  
You can break everything I am  
Like I'm made of glass  
Like I'm made of paper  
Go on and try to tear me down  
I will be rising from the ground  
Like a skyscraper  
Like a skyscraper _

_As the smoke clears I awaken and untangle you from me  
Would it make you feel better to watch me while I bleed?  
All my windows still are broken but I'm standing on my feet_

_CHORUS_

_Go run run run  
I'm gonna stay right here  
Watch you disappear  
Yeah  
Go run run run  
Yeah it's a long way down but I'm closer to the clouds up here_

_You can take everything I have  
You can break everything I am  
Like I'm made of glass  
Like I'm made of paper  
Go on and try to tear me down  
I will be rising from the ground like a skyscraper  
Like a skyscraper (x4)_

_-Demi Lovato, Skyscraper_


	7. Two Velvet Roses

**Author's Notes: **I can't believe that Harry Potter is over. I _cannot _believe that… *cries *. The last movie was phenomenal and epic and nearly everything that a Potter fan could ever wish for. I cried three times. _Me_, the dark author that doesn't even cry when she kills off all of her characters! Good thing that we'll always have fanfiction and our imaginations… and _Pottermore. _Don't be shy, and do tell me your favorite parts of the movie. Thank you all for the brilliant reviews, everyone. Review, people (:

"Hogwarts will always be there to guide you home" –– J.K. Rowling

_Reviewers: Glitter Poisoned My Blood, AwesomePersonlolxx, sweet-tang-honney, compa16, lizr18, Lost O'Fallon Girl, lalyta8, BroadwayNightOwl, aringle42, Wicked Sapphira, smileylol, Lady Phoenix, MiraMarie, Cedarchip, lupuslady, randomfan17, HereToRead84, nibblehead, sassyfiestycrazychic, azulaiii, ShiningxXxShadowxXxThief, Thumbelina94, know-it-all, PravusAuror, MalfoyMushyGusher, Garling, juhn, (no name), marmia days, west carson girl, curiousbookworm_

_Shout-out to Thumbelina94: _Thank you for your review! I do have a thing for sadistic and emotionless Tom Riddle, and though I understand how everyone is mad at Draco for giving it away, you must also understand how much pain he was under. I probably wouldn't've lasted either… Actually, Tom wouldn't need to cruciate me in the first place… I'd be by his side (:

_Shout out to Lady Phoenix: _Thank you for your review! I'd say that they are all in their twenty-something. Tom would be around three years older than them, and, according to J.K. Rowling, Hermione is older than Malfoy by more than half a year.

O

Draco froze, eyes wide as he stared at Hermione, his body crouched into a defensive position. Hermione leaned forward, and, without thinking, he leaned back.

"D-Draco?" Hermione whispered, her cider-colored eyes wide with astonishment. Tentatively, she extended a shaking hand towards him, noting how he flinched when her hand clasped around his wrist.

He remembered the shackles that bound him to the wall. He remembered the chains that restrained him and prevented him from escaping. Was her hand much different from the shackles? With a scared gasp, Draco harshly wrenched himself away from her. The memories of torture suddenly barraged his mind like a flood of water bursting free of a dam, and he slid down to the ground, hands pressed firmly on his temples as he shook violently.

Somewhere in Draco's mind, he knew what was happening. _It's Riddle, _an angry voice hissed bitterly. _Riddle cursed me so that when I entered this room, I would relive the pain. _

"Draco!" Hermione immediately shifted so that she was sitting next to him, and he felt an arm wrap around his trembling shoulders. Draco flinched at the contact, but a part of him needed the comfort.

_Malfoys don't need comfort, _he thought. _Malfoys aren't weak… _He tried to shake off her arm, but his body did not respond to this command. However, the shaking and internal pain was beginning to subside, and Draco soon found that he could lift his head.

Hermione's eyebrows were pushed together in concern as she gazed at him. "What did he do to you?" she said softly. There was something in her eyes… something that he had seen before… _Pity. _

As if he were slapped across the face, Draco moved away from her. "I don't need your pity," he hissed, eyes narrowing. His voice was hoarse, and it cracked painfully.

"We have to destroy Riddle. And to do that, I need you to tell me what happened to you," Hermione murmured, speaking to him as if he were an injured child. "What happened, Draco?"

_Riddle happened. Voldemort happened… I told him! I didn't even know that I was telling him everything… he looked in my mind… He knows, Granger, he knows! He knows everything, and he's trying to break you, Granger! He's going to try to make you drown in the Dark Arts! He's controlling your dreams! He's going to kill me! _

That was what Draco had meant to say. However, when he opened his mouth to say these words, he felt an invisible force push at his throat, and he gagged, clutching his neck. He pulled at it, but there was nothing there.

He heard Hermione shout in panic as he clawed for air. '_Now, I can't have you spilling these secrets to her, now can I?'_ Riddle's mocking voice echoed in his head.

"Please, Draco! Just relax for a moment," Hermione shrieked, her hands pushing down on his shoulders. "Take a couple of deep breaths… yes, that's it… Just breathe, Draco…"

Draco gasped as he tried to relax and loosen up his throat to allow air to go down to his lungs. _Relief. _He weakly rested himself against the wall, breathing heavily. He should've known that something like that would've happened if he tried to tell her Riddle's plans. _I've got to stay away from her. Riddle wants her to get close to me and then make her feel pain by killing me. But, if I avoid her, then she won't feel pain when I die._

But how could he avoid her when he was stuck in a room with her?

He stared at her anxious eyes, and he groaned. She was a Gryffindor… she was never going to leave him alone, even for her own good.

O

Riddle absently brushed his unnaturally long fingers across the smooth wood of his wand. He was facing a towering window and a darkening sky that held no stars. Except for a dim, flickering candle by his left, there was barely any light in the spacious and empty room.

His expression was unreadable. Orange light reflected hauntingly in those dark eyes, and his pale skin seemed ghost-like in the near-blackness.

Demeire/Malfoy's memories resonated in his mind. Abraxas Malfoy would eventually die of dragon pox, and his son, Lucius Malfoy, would betray the Dark Lord in times of need. Lucius would marry Narcissa Black, sister of Bellatrix Black (whom Lord Voldemort would ultimately pair with Rodolphus Lestrange to loosen her clinginess) and Andromeda Black (who would be disowned because of her marriage to a mudblood named Ted Tonks).

Riddle narrowed his eyes. Because of a prophecy and Peter Pettigrew's betrayal to his friends, he would murder the Potters. However, an infant named Harry Potter would destroy him and temporarily strip him of his powers. He would fail to kill the boy two more times until he rose to power once again, and, even after acquiring a body and securing his powers, he would fail to kill the famous Boy-Who-Lived many times until he finally would end the boy's life by _disarming _Potter and then killing him.

A red sheen began covering his eyes as a nasty smile appeared on his face. Then, he would proceed to rule the world and purge it of mudbloods. The weak fight against him was futile… he would win, no matter what.

Riddle drifted his long fingers across the cold, glass panes. He would have to make the same mistakes if he wanted to secure the fact that he won in the war. However, though Lord Voldemort would never admit to anything, he had become weak after defeating Potter. Potter had destroyed all of the horcruxes, therefore making him vulnerable and exposed to the possibility of death. Should he try to prevent his horcruxes from being destroyed in the first place?

He knew that the Malfoy boy didn't know everything, and, seeing as Hermione Granger was the best friend of _Harry Potter_ and the brains of the so-called 'Golden Trio', it would deem prudent to use Legilimency on _her. _

The runes that she used to make them travel in time interested him immensely. Did she not know that using runes were considered dark? Hogwarts always had 'The _Study _of Ancient Runes' and not just simply 'Ancient Runes' because runic magic was hard to control and dangerous. In the class, they rarely ever did any magic–– just _studying. _

Surely, the 'Brightest Witch of the Future Age' would know this? Despite how the runes that she used were 'light' words (leave, time, new, gold, and heart), the magic itself is dark no matter what the content.

Furthermore, the consequences of rune casting were always shrouded in mystery. One consequence, of which he mentioned to Malfoy, was that the caster's magic, rendered temporarily unstable because of the strength of the runes, would bind itself to another being's magic immediately. Another consequence should've been magical weakness for the next couple of weeks, but Hermione seemed fine. Like him, her magic was strong and did not weaken because of a couple of petty runes.

A smirk appeared on his face. Their similarities were becoming much more clear as time went on.

Furthermore, the fact that she had used runes to travel decades back in time would surely result in instability. Riddle's dark smirk deepened. She hadn't researched runes enough to know some crucial bits of information.

O

Hermione spent the rest of her day helping Draco recuperate. The house-elf popped in with twice the amount of food that he usually brought, and Draco eagerly ate his portion, unaware of Hermione's worried frown when she realized that he had been starved. After eating, he took a long soak in the luxurious bathroom. Draco probably would've fallen asleep in the bathtub had Hermione not knocked on the door to ask if everything was all right.

It wasn't until he was fully fed, cleaned, clothed, and well rested did Hermione decide to bring up important matters. However, whenever Draco opened his mouth to warn her of Riddle's plans, an invisible force pressed on his throat and prevented him from speaking.

"It's Riddle, isn't it," Hermione spat. "He put a curse on you to stop you from telling me."

Draco nodded fervently.

Hermione then proceeded to test the boundaries of the spell, much to Draco's chagrin. A person could only want to be nearly choked to death so many times, and Hermione covered every theory possible.

"Try writing," Hermione said, slipping off the bed and grabbing a piece of parchment and quill that had appeared just that morning.

Grimacing, Draco grabbed the quill, dipped it neatly into the ink, and then proceeded to write 'I told Riddle everything'. However, before he even finished the 'I' in the sentence, he felt something press against his fingers, locking them together and squeezing them painfully. Draco had quickly dropped the quill, splattering some ink on the paper, and then clutched his hand, which was making some popping noises of dislocation of his joints and knuckles.

His joints had relocated itself on its own after a tense ten minutes.

"Use a code," Hermione murmured. "He can't possibly be able to tell one false sentence from another without physically being here."

Speaking in riddles obviously didn't work either, for Draco felt the same choking sensation as before. After Draco took a couple of minutes to recollect his composure, Hermione had yet another idea.

"Use actions and act it out," Hermione instructed, sitting cross-legged on the leather coffee table.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "And what, get myself put into a full body-bind for the next ten minutes?"

"We've got to _try_, Draco!" the Gryffindor hissed. "Whatever you know is pretty damn important, so we've got to at least _attempt _and cover all possibilities!"

Draco knew that, as always, the know-it-all had a point. If he never got the information through to her, then he would have to somehow stay away from her so that his death wouldn't affect her. Standing up (and feeling ridiculous), he tried to imitate himself spilling the information, but, as predicted, he was put into a full body-bind for the next ten minutes.

Hermione then asked him to test everything that Riddle had said to him to get as much information as she could. The only things that Draco could tell her was that he was to visit her every day, he was tortured, and that Avery and Rookwood had beat him.

When darkness fell, Avery took Draco away. Avery, who wanted to get out of the room as fast as possible, missed something of great importance. The Death Eater was always too irresponsible for the Dark Lord's liking, and he was notorious for his impulsive and foolish ways. This time, Avery missed the conniving and scheming look that seemed too Slytherin for Hermione's face as she glanced at the open door.

O

Hermione yanked the comforter up to her chin, placing a corner of it under her head as if an extra pillow. It was cold in the manor, and she brought her knees up to her chest, curling her freezing toes.

Of course, there was no muggle 'heating' in Malfoy Manor. You'd think that the early Malfoys would set a Warming Charm over the entire mansion, but no, Malfoys seem to prefer cold climates to match their personalities; Draco was an exception.

Only one thing warmed her, and that was hope.

However cliché that may be, she felt hope flare inside of her as she remembered the open door that Avery had walked through. Now that the Death Eaters opened the door regularly to allow Draco into the room, there could be a possibility of escape…

A sound intruded on her thoughts.

Was that footsteps?

Hermione froze at sound of quiet footsteps that echoed in the hall outside. Was someone coming? Was it Draco? Did he have a plan to escape?

_What if it wasn't Draco? _

She slipped off of the bed, ducking down and hiding on the other side of the magnificent bed. If someone intended to harm her with magic, they'd have to lift the wards that prevented magic first, which would allow Hermione to try to use wandless magic. Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to remember Herpo the Foul's words. _Concentrate and set the magic free. _

Hermione felt a heavy blanket of magic lift, and she gasped when she felt the complexity of the wards as it sizzled out. Riddle must've been the one who cast the wards… perhaps he was the one who lifted the wards as well?

The door slowly opened, and she spied a cloaked silhouette standing at the doorway. The person entered and turned to look at the empty bed.

Hermione took a deep breath. _Concentrate. Unlock the door and set your magic free._

Hermione stood up, pointing her index finger at the figure. Power bubbled in her chest, and magic swirled around her figure. "_Stupefy!" _she shouted, and a red bolt of light rushed towards the figure, only to be blocked by a wordless Shield Charm.

Hermione could feel the floor vibrate as her Stunning Spell clashed with the shield, and she immediately knew whom it was. _Riddle. _Only his magic could be so powerful: his shield was the most opaque and sturdy shield that she had ever witnessed.

He was advancing on her now, and Hermione backed up, summoning more strength. "_Confringo!" _she hissed, but his shield was erected once again and blocked the fiery spell.

"_Impedimenta! Duro! Expelliarmis! Everte Statum! Incarcerous!"_ she could feel her magic draining and her body weakening, but she had to stop him. All five spells were blocked.

Suddenly, he was right in front of her, and she could see the triumphant gleam in his dark eyes as Riddle grabbed her arms and threw her against the wall. The wards shifted back into place at the snap of his fingers, and her magic was muffled once again.

Hermione felt the familiar pounding on her chest as she pressed herself against the wall, trying to put as much distance in between them as possible. Her heart raced, and her breathing was quick and rapid. _This is it. He's going to torture me. _

The hood slipped off of his head, and the darkly handsome face was revealed. A knowing glint was visible in his unfathomable grey eyes as he smiled eerily at her.

"Hello, Hermione. I apologize for impeding on your sleep, but there is a rather important matter that we must discuss," he purred, his voice like velvet. Riddle raised a hand, and she flinched, thinking that he was going to strike her. Instead, he lightly brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes before smiling and pointing to the chairs, motioning for her to sit.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and, slowly and with caution, she inched towards the chairs, never letting her eyes stray from Riddle's figure.

"What did you do to Draco?" Hermione whispered, gripping the arm of the chair.

Riddle arched a dark eyebrow. "_Demeire?" _he asked mockingly, and, for a second, she thought that he knew something. Did he know that Draco was actually a Malfoy? But no… he couldn't know… could he? She avoided his eyes to keep him from using Legilimency.

"Yes."

"My love," Riddle looked amused, "Why would you assume that I did anything?"

Hermione's face darkened. "Don't play games with me, Riddle," she spat hatefully. "Get to the point and don't waste time."

Riddle leaned forward, and she flinched again. His taunting smirk disappeared and was replaced with a dangerous sneer, and his hand grabbed hers, cupping one of her hands between two of his. His skin was as cold as his eyes: an arctic winter with blank emptiness and piles of snow that covered her vision and made the sky disappear, smothering her, making it hard to breathe…

"Straight to the point it is," Riddle said coldly. "Just remember, Hermione: you don't want me as your enemy. I make a formidable opponent who stops at nothing to defeat you."

Hermione lifted her chin and slyly slipped her hand out of his. "I tried to kill you and we're not enemies?" she challenged.

Riddle laughed, but there was no mirth in the laugh. Deftly, he reached for her hand again, clasping it in his own hands. "I find it admirable that such a pure and _innocent _woman like you can muster the hatred to aim a Killing Curse at me, Hermione. Don't you find it strange that you, ever the person who defies the Dark Arts, can cast an 'Avada Kedavra' on the first try using another's wand?"

But, of course, they both knew that she wasn't entirely pure and innocent. Fighting in a war for years can change a person rapidly.

"It was too easy to hate you," Hermione answered, hostility clear in her voice as she snatched her hand away from his, not even trying to be subtle this time.

"I also find it admirable for you to master wandless magic so easily. _Quite _respectable, love."

Hermione glared at him. "No games, Riddle."

"Tell me everything about the future." It was a command, not a question. His eyes were unreadable, however, and the command lacked any emphasis, as if the issue was unimportant.

"No."

Riddle leaned forward, eyes darkening slightly. "I can kill you whenever I want to," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin; it was surprisingly warm. His hand cupped her jaw and his fingers caressed her skin, sending electrical currents through her body.

"Why don't you?" Hermione breathed, disgusted at how weak she was behaving. Her breathing sped as his lips softly brushed over the area where her ear and jaw met. She could _feel _his presence… his magic pulsed and transferred to her and then back to him where they touched… it was as if they were… _connected, _in some way.

"You are too fascinating," Riddle chuckled, and, suddenly, all contact ceased and she felt cold and hollow without his touch.

Hermione forced herself to push her chair back, putting more distance between them. Curling her hands into fists, she said through gritted teeth, "I won't tell you anything. You can torture me all you want."

"I could use Legilimency and intrude on your past, if I wanted."

Hermione swallowed, pushing herself back further.

"I could use Veritaserum and force answers out of you, if I wanted."

She glowered at him, trying to mask her fear with hate.

"However, I have a bargain for you," Riddle smiled enigmatically. There was a dark glint in his eyes. "Tell me the truth and I will let you and _Demeire_ live."

Once again, she felt the chilling feeling that he knew more than he let on. Hermione bit her lip. "How do I know that I can trust you?"

"You don't," Riddle stood up. His figure was tall and intimidating, and his magical aura was much darker and powerful than anyone else's. "However, I assure you that Demeire will die if you do not tell me _everything." _

"What if you kill him after I tell you?" Hermione stood up as well.

"What if I _don't?" _Riddle arched an eyebrow. "I will give you one day to think about my offer. Do not mention this to Demeire–– I will know if you do, and he will die if you speak a word of this to him. Good night."

Hermione grit her teeth and glared his retreating back. He had no problem turning his back on someone who wants to hurt him–– he was much too powerful to be harmed even with his back to his enemy.

She knew that she couldn't simply tell him everything about the future. If he knew… any chance of her defeating him would be ruined.

But she couldn't let Draco die. Not when it was Draco who helped her out of Malfoy Manor. Not when it was Draco who made this all possible. Not when it was Draco who was tortured endlessly. She couldn't just let the person who gave everything become a sacrifice. It was just… wrong.

But Draco's life could save many…

She also knew that Riddle could forcibly take the memories from her, however. Surely, if he really wanted the memories, he would use Veritaserum, Legilimency, or torture. Since he could get it so easily, it was better to sacrifice as little as possible for the memories. Lord Voldemort had won in the war, so it couldn't make a huge difference if she told him, would it?

But then, their mission to stop him would be revealed and failed. Furthermore, Hermione didn't like Riddle knowing more about them than they knew about him.

Suddenly, a red glint caught her eyes, and her eyes flickered to something that he had left behind on his seat. Her heart skipped a beat.

Two velvet black roses.

Both roses were perfect. The petals elegantly folded around each other, and the roses seemed strangely alive, despite being made of velvet. Both roses were as dark as the darkest nights, and the stem was a blood red that reminded her of his eyes when he was in a rage. In fact, the beautiful layered black petals reminded her of his dark grey eyes.

She dared not touch them.

**Author's Notes: **Finally, they talk, face to face! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter… a lot of narrative in the beginning, but there was much more of dark Tom Riddle in this. Hermione's spells are all in the actual Harry Potter series. The incantations and descriptions are below. Please review, everyone!

_Confringo: _causes anything that the spell comes into contact with to explode into flames

_Impedimenta: _trips, freezes, binds, knocks back, and generally impedes the target's progress towards the caster

_Duro: _turns target into stone

_Expelliarmis: _disarms the target

_Everte Statum: _means 'to throw out'

_Incarcerous: _ties someone or something up with ropes

_Circling your, circling your, circling your head  
Contemplating everything you ever said  
Now I see the truth I got a doubt  
A different motive in your eyes  
And now I'm out, see you later_

_I see your fantasy  
You want to make it a reality paved in gold  
See inside, inside of our heads, yeah  
Well, now that's over_

_I see your motives inside  
Decisions to hide_

_CHORUS  
Back off, I'll take you on  
Headstrong to take on anyone  
I know that you are wrong  
Headstrong, we're headstrong_

_Back off, I'll take you on  
Headstrong to take on anyone  
I know that you are wrong  
And this is not where you belong_

_I can't give everything away  
I won't give everything away_

_Conclusions manifest, your first impression's  
Got to be your very best  
I see you're full of shit and that's alright  
That's how you play, I guess you get through  
Every night, well, now that's over_

_I see your fantasy  
You want to make it a reality paved in gold  
See inside, inside of our heads, yeah  
Well, now that's over_

_I see your motives inside  
Decisions to hide_

_CHORUS_

_Where you belong?  
(I can't give everything away)  
This is not where you belong  
(I won't give everything away)_

_I know, I know all about, I know, I know all about  
I know, I know all about, I know, I know all about  
Your motives inside and your decision to hide_

_CHORUS_

_Where you belong?  
__This is not were you belong  
__(I can't give everything away)  
__This is not were you belong  
__(I won't give everything away)  
__This is not were you belong_

_-Trapt, Headstrong _


	8. Mercy and Deceit

**Author's Notes: **Everyone, remember that this story is an intellectual battle of manipulations, so you really have to pay attention to everything that I write (: Loads of this has been narration and thoughts, and though some of you guys want me to hurry up, I'd get complaints if I didn't stick to the realistic stuff. It'll speed up eventually. The next update will most probably be later than usual because I'm going on a vacation to LA (Warner Bros. Studios and Malibu!). A special mention to _cosmoGirl666_, my 200th reviewer! Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter, and do review this one!

_Reviewers: aringle42, HereToRead84, know-it-all, MalfoyMushyGusher, (no name), sweet-tang-honney, nibblehead, Garling, Lady Phoenix, AwesomePersonlolxx, Laurie Jupiter, Lost O'Fallon Girl, mekom, Wicked Sapphira, PravusAuror, smileylol, SakuraHasGreenEyes, FallenStar22, randomfan17, ItsNatalie, poncho, lizr18, cosmoGirl666, anangelwithnoname, 372259, literature-angel, r.a.b. shoulda lived _

O

Hermione faced a horrible dilemma.

She had no idea what to do. Was Draco more important than the knowledge of the future? Or was the knowledge of the future more important than Draco?

Everything that she knew about the future could possibly make Voldemort stronger. Voldemort could find a way to avoid the destruction of all his Horcruxes–– after all, before Harry died, he had destroyed all but the snake, Nagini, who was slain by Neville. If Riddle knew how to avoid it… in fact, Riddle could take precautions and not attempt to kill Harry and his parents the way that he did that night. He could take Harry's parents away from Harry so that they wouldn't be sacrificing themselves for him, and, therefore, Harry wouldn't have his mother's love sacrifice protecting him, and…

But, either way, the Dark would prevail, wouldn't it? It didn't matter if Voldemort was stronger–– every single member of the Light was caught and murdered and broken so thoroughly that there was no chance of a small miracle to happen. The Order was too weak to fight the Death Eaters. In fact, there was no Order of the Phoenix. There was no one left…

However, there were three things that would hurt Hermione in telling Riddle about the future would be that. One: Riddle would know more about her than she knew about him. Two: there would be no chance of killing Riddle and rescuing the future of the Wizarding World once he knew why they were there. Three–– well, the third negative sounded silly, but it was still legitimate–– it would harm her conscience if she simply _told _Riddle without a fight.

But she couldn't let Draco die. Draco, after all, risked his own life to bring her here. Draco was the one being tortured. Draco, to Riddle, was easily disposable, and Hermione should do everything in her power to save him.

Riddle could always kill Draco whenever he wanted to. There was nothing binding Riddle to his word–– he could probably lie the moment he learned to talk. Then again, Riddle could always take the memory by force. Legilimency, Veritaserum, and torture… he won, both ways. It didn't matter what Hermione chose. Riddle could take her memories and kill Draco whenever he wanted to. He was just playing a game… a game that would make her hurt.

Hermione bit her lip. No, she couldn't let Draco die because of her. Not when he was the only person she had left.

O

When Draco was pushed into her room that day, Hermione found that she couldn't look at him. Whenever he tried to push her to talk to him, she vainly tried to change the subject.

"_Do not mention this to Demeire–– I will know if you do, and he will die if you speak a word of this to him." _Now, Hermione knew how Draco felt when he was trying to tell her Riddle's secret. Riddle was playing them, carelessly playing with their emotions and weaknesses. It was only a game to him.

She wondered what Draco knew that she didn't.

"Do you ever regret running from the Death Eaters and going back in time with me?" Hermione said abruptly, cutting Draco off. For the first time, she stared into his eyes, trying to read his heavily guarded emotions.

This time, Draco looked away. "I'm only human, Granger," Draco said quietly, "and I _am _a Slytherin. A Slytherin's sense of self-preservation is stronger than their sense of morals."

"So you do regret it?" There was no accusation in her voice.

"Look at it from my point of view," Draco stared at the opposite wall, his grey eyes blank and devoid of emotion. "On the Dark side, I was a Death Eater living in this comfortable manor whose only fear was angering the Dark Lord and the death of my mother. Now that my deeply buried hope has risen again, I just face pain in every second of my life." He wanted to say that he was going to die soon, but Riddle's spell didn't let him.

Hermione tentatively reached forward and touched his arm. "I'm not asking you to justify your actions. Just answer the question."

"Yes," Draco closed his eyes, sighing. "It's a cowardly answer, but yes, I regret it. At least, most of my mind does. I thought that running here would lift the guilt of torturing and killing muggles, but it doesn't. We have barely any hope of destroying him, Granger."

Hermione shook her head fervently. "No, there is hope. I know it."

"Granger––"

"Listen to me, Draco," Hermione said firmly. "Avery will come to take you away later today. He opens the door every time, and he's careless about it. We can run, Draco! We can escape…"

Draco sighed again. "It'd take a good dose of luck to escape, and even if we do succeed, where would we go?"

"Hogwarts. Dumbledore is there; he'll help us!"

"We don't even have _wands, _Granger."

Hermione stood up, pacing back and forth in the room. "I've been learning wandless magic lately," she admitted, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes.

"_Wandless magic?" _Draco's eyes widened, gazing at her incredulously. "How?"

"That book," Hermione pointed to Herpo the Foul's book, and, when she saw Draco's eyes darken and flash dangerously, she immediately rushed on. "I'm not trying to learn the Dark Arts. There is a sufficient amount of information on strengthening you magic and learning wandless magic before doing the Dark Arts, and I'm just reading up on that part. I can defend us…"

"Granger," Draco said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "It takes _years _to master wandless magic. Don't tell me that you can immediately use wandless magic whenever you want to?"

Hermione bristled, her pride wounded. "I used it against Riddle, last night, when he––" she immediately stopped. She couldn't tell Draco. Not without risking his life…

"Riddle?" Draco straightened up, eyes alert. "He spoke to you last night?"

"Listen, Draco, I can't tell you…"

"No, Granger!" Draco stood up as well, and he halted her in her pacing, grabbing her arms and pinning them at her sides. "What did he say, Granger? _What did he say? _Did he… Was it…" he began choking again, trembling with effort.

Hermione pushed him back onto the chair, telling him to take deep breaths.

"Listen… to me!" Draco gasped, still wheezing and clawing at his own throat. "Stop… stop reading… book…"

"Draco, breathe!"

"LISTEN TO ME!" Malfoy shouted, his body jerking horribly. His face was turning purple, and the blood was circulating around his body. Riddle's spell was affecting him, and they both knew it. "Stop… reading! _Now!" _With that, he fainted, collapsing into the chair and twitching slightly.

Hermione, eyes wide, ran forward, feeling for his pulse on his neck. The spell seemed to have faded away, and he was just knocked out from it. Briefly, she wondered if Malfoy was sane. The book was _helping _them! They could escape… they had to run…

But perhaps he meant that there was a dark enchantment on the book that he couldn't tell her about? She eyed Herpo the Foul's book. It hadn't harmed her, yet. Should she heed his frantic cautions? Or had Riddle tortured Draco to the point of insanity, as Bellatrix had done with Neville's parents?

Hermione's mind went back to running away. It'd be hard, and, as Draco had said, they'd need a whole lot of luck… She narrowed her eyes and began to plan. Escaping was crucial… because, if they escaped, she wouldn't need to tell Riddle anything and Draco would no longer be in danger.

O

By the time Draco and Hermione heard footsteps coming down the hall towards their room, they were both shaking with adrenaline, excitement, and dread. The familiar sound of thick, dragon hide boots with chains clinking against each other became louder and louder until it abruptly stopped. They heard the telltale sign of a key being inserted into a lock and a murmured incantation that raised the wards on the door. The door creaked open to reveal the malicious Death Eater.

"Come on, now," Avery grumbled, wand ready in his hand. He wasn't looking at the two of them.

"S-sir," Hermione feigned an expression of pain. She grabbed her leg, managing to squeeze out some tears. "Sir, my leg is in pain."

Avery's eyes flickered up to gaze at her for a moment. "You are a prisoner here. I don't care if your leg hurts, lady."

Hermione gulped, dabbing the corner of her eye with the edge of her robe. "But, s-sir, I am a weak lady, and the pain is unbearable… Your Lord put me in such beautiful quarters… I do think that he wouldn't consider me as a horrid prisoner… You are a strong wizard… I'm sure that you are capable of healing me, sir."

Hesitation was in his eyes as Avery surveyed her. "You tried to kill my Lord, girl."

"Out of fear, sir," Hermione said quietly, looking sorry.

"Don't try anything funny," Avery warned, entering the room. He lifted the magical wards so that he would be able to defend himself with magic, if need be. Slowly, looking around, he walked towards Draco and Hermione.

"You," Avery flicked his wand at Draco, and he was immediately tied to the bed. "No attempts of escaping while I help the lady."

Hermione fought the smile that was threatening to appear on her face. Manipulating Avery was much too simple, much easier than she thought it would be. All that she had to do was to appear as a simpering, stereotypical _lady, _flatter Avery about what a strong wizard he was, and carefully challenge his capability to heal her. For such a clever wizard, Riddle really didn't choose his followers at all that well. For heavens' sake, she aimed a _Killing Curse _at Riddle, and there had to be a large amount of hatred behind the spell for a wisp of green to even appear.

However, Hermione plastered a very weak smile on her face and showed Avery her leg. While Avery prepared to cast an easy diagnosis spell, Hermione hit him with a quiet Stunning spell that caused him to suddenly collapse onto the ground. After concentrating for a moment, she released Draco from his binds.

They didn't even need to talk to each other as Draco shut the door while Hermione took Avery's wand, cloak, mask, and robes. She handed the four items to Draco, who would be impersonating a Death Eater (which shouldn't be hard, considering that he had the Dark Mark on his forearm) because there were no female Death Eaters except for Bellatrix Lestrange and Alecto Carrow, who were both not yet born. Hermione cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, and, after feeling the strange cold sensation that ran through her body, she grabbed Draco's arm to let him know that she was there. Draco waved his wand towards Avery, and Avery's stunned body became invisible.

Draco recast the wards on the room after leaving, as Hermione had instructed. She knew that Riddle would be able to feel the magical thrum of protection spells over the room, and the later Riddle knew that they were running, the better. Though they weren't exactly sure which wards had been placed on the room, Draco did his best, and they hurried along the corridor.

"Ah, Avery!"

Draco cursed under his breath as another Death Eater came running towards him in the hallways. Making sure that his hood completely covered his white-blonde hair and that the mask properly covered his face, he turned around.

"Rookwood," Draco greeted coldly.

Rookwood raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. "Why the mask and the hood, Avery? Going somewhere?"

"The Dark Lord has given me a mission. It's _urgent," _Draco stressed, his voice displaying his irritation.

"A mission? I haven't heard of it."

"Perhaps the Dark Lord only let his most _trusted _servants know, _Rookwood," _Draco hissed. "Now, I'll be going…"

However, Rookwood began walking next to him. "Your voice is sounding strange, Avery. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Just a common cold."

Rookwood looked suspicious, and Hermione shook slightly when he looked right through her. But, of course, he couldn't see her. She and Draco had made sure that the Disillusionment charm had been as strong as possible.

"I thought that you were getting the prisoner?" Rookwood questioned.

"It's done," Draco answered promptly. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got to go. Good day, Rookwood."

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she saw Rookwood debating whether or not he should persist and follow them. She was sure that, behind Draco's mask, his face must display some form of panic… She admired Draco for keeping his voice steady and indifferent throughout the entire confrontation.

"Remove your mask," Rookwood's order made them freeze in place. They turned around to see the Death Eater pointing his shaking wand at them, and they saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

"Why?" Draco demanded, though his voice trembled and betrayed his confidence.

"You––"

"_Stupefy," _Hermione hissed, and the Death Eater suddenly crumbled to the floor.

Draco let out a sigh of relief and cast a Disillusionment Charm on Rookwood before turning around and swiftly making his way towards the exit. Their pace was faster now, and there was a slight edge of panic–– panic of being seen and drawn back again.

Their steps echoed in the empty hall as they entered the Entrance Room. A glittering chandelier was hung right above the doors, and an elegantly shaped grand staircase would be the first thing that a guest noticed once they stepped foot in Malfoy Manor. Everything was white marble and silver metal.

The door was right in front of them. Heavy iron doors were all that separated them from freedom…

"Grab my hand," Draco murmured quietly. "Only those in contact with Malfoy blood or the Dark Mark can pass the gates." Hermione slipped an invisible hand into his, and she flinched when he pulled open one of the two grand doors. However, no curse suddenly shot towards them. Looking around cautiously, they made their way through the path towards the wrought-iron gates.

Hermione swallowed as she glanced around. Gardens full of magical plants and majestic animals surrounded them, and the trickle of water from the marble fountain gave a deceptively peaceful feeling. Draco and Hermione walked quickly and quietly towards the gates, and when they finally reached it, the gate dissolved into smoke and let them pass.

It seemed too easy.

And yet, the moment they stepped out of the wards of Malfoy Manor, they disapparated, and no Riddle stopped them.

O

"Repeat that, Avery," the Dark Lord's cold voice echoed through the drawing room. The Death Eaters flinched under Lord Voldemort's ice-cold glare, and Avery ducked his head, trembling and white with fright.

"My… My Lord," Avery whispered, clasping his shaking hands together on the table in front of him. "The p-prisoners, G-Granger and Demeire e-e-escaped, M-My Lord."

"_Crucio." _An ear-splitting scream sliced through the room, and the bystanders winced, staring at anything but the screaming man and the angry Dark Lord. The scream echoed through the room horribly, and the Dark Lord laughed a dark laugh.

"Countless times, Avery," Riddle said softly, lightly caressing the smooth wood of his wand, "that is how many times I've given you more chances. I warned you, didn't I? I told you to be less careless, and yet…" his blood red eyes fixed themselves on the shivering body of Avery, who had fallen out of his chair onto the carpeted ground, "and yet, you believe that you are above my orders."

"N-No, My Lord! Please, My Lord, I beg you…"

"Such pitiful words," the Lord laughed, raising a perfect, dark eyebrow. "I've heard them plenty times."

Avery shuddered, and he finally gained the strength to uncurl himself from fetus position and crawl over to his lord, kissing the hem of Riddle's cloak. "M-My Lord, just one last chance. I promise, My Lord…"

"Is that not what you said last time, Avery? And the time before that?" Riddle's voice grew noticeably darker as he spoke. "I am a merciful lord, and I can forgive. However, to forgive three times… it would be considered foolish of me."

"My Lord!" Avery groveled.

Riddle sharply kicked Avery's feeble body away from him as if he were nothing but filth. The Death Eaters who sat at the table flinched once again, their faces only white masks of blankness. "How?" the leader hissed, eyes red with rage. He stood up, towering over the weak figure of Avery. "How did they escape?"

"P-Please, My Lord," Avery begged. Tears were streaked down his face, and they glinted in the dim firelight. "I-I misjudged the girl, M-My Lord. She t-told me that her l-leg hurt, and I went in to check h-her… You said that you wanted her alive… I lifted the w-wards, My Lord, so that I-I could defend m-myself with m-magic… b-but she knows wandless m-magic, My Lord… I d-did not know… She _s-stunned _me!"

"Look at me, Avery," Riddle said coldly, and the Death Eater looked up, still trembling with the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse. Riddle dove into Avery's memories, and he saw Hermione's clever manipulation and careful flattery… so much like him, when he was at Hogwarts… He hid his smile as he withdrew from Avery's mind, leaving Avery weaker than before.

Riddle suddenly shifted, turning around and inhaling deeply. "I smell guilt," he whispered, eyes flickering around the table. His unfeeling eyes landed on a tall man on the left side of the table. "Rookwood."

"My Lord!" the man abruptly flung himself out of the chair and onto his knees. "My Lord, I didn't know… I suspected… I…"

Riddle slowly walked forward until he stood in front of Rookwood. "You suspected?"

"My Lord," Rookwood spoke quickly, eyes on the floor. "My Lord, Demeire had taken Avery's robes, mask, cloak, and wand… I asked him why he was in full attire, and he said that he was going out on a mission, a secret mission for you, My Lord. I asked him why I hadn't heard of it, and he answered that only your most faithful followers knew… I thought that his voice was off, and he said that he had a common cold… My Lord, when I suspected, I told him to take his mask off, and a Stunning Spell came at me from the thin air… My Lord, please, forgive me… My Lord, I am loyal to only you…"

Riddle held up a hand, and Rookwood immediately fell silent. Except for the crackling of fire and the whimpering from Avery, the room was completely quiet–– no one dared to breathe, and the dark look in their lord's eyes made them cower in their seats.

"Do not fear, Rookwood," Riddle finally spoke, his voice seemingly pleasant. "I do not punish those who were unfortunate… You were more careful than Avery, and you suspected. However…" he stared down his nose disdainfully at him, "you should have immediately stunned him the moment you suspected. Careless… _Crucio." _

Rookwood immediately let out a sharp shriek of pain, his eyes bulging in their sockets and his body flopping uselessly on the ground. He clawed at his own skin, as if trying to tear himself out of it, and screamed his throat hoarse. Riddle watched all of this with cold amusement in his dark eyes.

"I grant you mercy, Rookwood," Riddle hissed. "You will be pardoned. However, Avery…"

"My Lord, please… I beg of you, My Lord… I am your most faithful…" Avery sobbed, crawling towards Riddle once again.

"Enough, Avery," Riddle snapped. He began circling the weak Death Eater like a hawk. "I have had enough of your pathetic pleas."

"Please, My Lord––"

"_Avada Kedavra." _A flash of green light lit up the drawing room, and Avery was dead.

Riddle walked over Avery's body, his eyes pitiless and unremorseful.

"That," Riddle said, "is what happens when one does not listen. That is what happens when one crosses the path of Lord Voldemort." He paused and gazed at all of the Death Eaters sitting around the long, polished table, and they shivered. "I want a raid at Clapham. We will meet once again in seven days." And, with that, he strode out of the room, leaving the other Death Eaters to dispose of Avery's body.

When he turned around and left the room, a dark smirk appeared on his handsome face. Contrary to what he let the Death Eaters believe, he was not surprised or angered about the prisoners' escape. In fact, he had planned to let them escape.

From what he saw in Avery's mind, Hermione's wandless magic was getting surprisingly stable in just a couple of days. Her Slytherin side was coming out, whether she was aware of it or not… the way that she controlled the conversation between her and Avery while making him think that he had control was the most Slytherin thing to do… It reminded him of when he flattered Professor Slughorn to get information on horcruxes. Once again, their similarities were getting clearer.

She would run to Dumbledore, he knew. Dumbledore, the leader of the future Order of the Phoenix, the powerful victor who had defeated Grindelwald… let her run. A nice game of tag and hide-and-go-seek was all right with him.

There were so many things that the little Gryffindor didn't know… Surely, she would run for a book on runes and time travelling the moment she entered Hogwarts, and she would realize her mistake… And, sometime later, she would realize that he had known, all along, about the future, that Malfoy/Demeire had told him… She would realize _why _it had been so easy for him to get the information that he wanted…

A sadistic smile rose on his lips. He didn't even fear Hermione trying to spill his secrets to Dumbledore. He knew that she wouldn't be able to.

Avery was barely any loss. He was too careless, too impulsive… Now, his Death Eaters would never doubt his leadership and authority. Riddle trailed his long, spider-like fingers across the cold windowpane. He would meet Hermione very, very soon, sooner than she would think. And, after a couple of more raids, his name would be forever remembered and feared among the Wizarding World. No one would ever dare speak of his name. Lord Voldemort has risen, stronger than Grindelwald would ever be.

**Author's Notes: **Well… here's a considerably darker part of Riddle… perhaps even darker than the chapters before this one? If you're confused, the future chapters will reveal everything. Most of this story is about holding secrets, anyhow (: Clapham is an area within London, England. Apparently, many witches and wizards lived there. Review!

_Angel of Mercy  
How did you find me?  
Where did you read my story?  
Pulled from the papers  
Desperate and hardened  
seeking a momentary fix _

_All I wanted to say  
All I wanted to do  
Is fall apart now  
All I wanted to feel  
I wanted to love  
It's all my fault now  
A Tragedy I fear _

_CHORUS  
Angel of Mercy  
How did you find me?  
How did you pick me up again?  
Angel of Mercy  
How did you move me?  
Why am I on my feet again?  
And I see you _

_Whoa Whoa Whoa  
I feel you  
Whoa Whoa Whoa _

_Fortress of daylight  
come in and standby  
Waiting to catch the quickest plane  
Flying to nowhere  
Is better than somewhere  
That's where I've been and nothing's changed _

_All I wanted to say  
All I wanted to do  
Is fall apart now  
All I wanted to feel  
I wanted to love  
It's all my fault now  
A Tragedy I fear _

_CHORUS _

_I'm so lost in you  
A tragedy seemed to be over now  
A tragedy it seemed to be _

_Angel of Mercy  
How did you find me?  
How did you pick me up again?  
Angel of Mercy  
How did you move me?  
Why am I on my feet again?  
And I see you _

_Whoa  
I feel you  
Whoa  
I feel you  
Oh Whoa  
I feel you  
Oh Oh Oh_

_-OneRepublic, Mercy _


	9. An Unexpected Change

**Author's Notes: **Oh no! There's only a couple more weeks of summer left, and then, I'll be going back to school, and I have _no idea _if I can actually update once a month… or at all… *cries * _Anyways, _thank you all for those beautiful reviews, and I hope you enjoy this one as well. Review!

_Reviewers: literature-angel, ItsNatalie, MalfoyMushyGusher, PravusAuror, know-it-all, BroadwayNightOwl, Wicked Sapphira, IceWolf90, aringle42, smileylol, KThxBai, alannalove1990, FallenStar22, SakuraHasGreenEyes, r.a.b. shoulda lived, AwesomePersonlolxx, lizr18, Dance Like A Hippogriff, Mugglebornsrule, sweet-tang-honney, randomfan17, Shaneru Chan, Lost O'Fallon Girl, 99emmawatsonfan, Me, Edward-is-sexier-than-Mike, amadayasuki, Peacheschica, nibblehead, west carson girl, hateme101, Alice_

Shout-out to _west carson girl: _One word: thank you. Oh, wait… that's two. FAIL.

Shout-out to _Alice: _Thank you for your review! I never thought of it that way, but now that you mention it, yes, it does sound like that. I didn't mention it at the beginning of the chapter because, if I did, the reader wouldn't be kept in suspense while Hermione and Draco are trying to escape. Furthermore, the twist isn't nearly as effective if I write it before it happens (: As for not writing it at all… well, most of Riddle's plans are not revealed until after it happens, so I decided to write this one out, for a change! I wouldn't simply say that he expected Hermione to escape… because if he expected it, why not prevent it? He must have a plan, in that case. Thank you for your feedback, and I'll keep it in mind for any future stories and chapters!

O

The sight of Hogwarts standing proudly in the blazing sunlight made Hermione's heart clench painfully. Part of her felt much more complete, much more _whole, _when she saw the castle. It was beautiful. There was no trace of dark magic, no Dark Mark hovering mockingly in the murky sky. Hogwarts was a radiant beauty that seemed to touch the heavens.

However, part of her felt as if her heart had broken even further, if possible. Her heart had already been snapped into pieces, and this picture, this _scene, _completely pounded those broken pieces into sand. Hogwarts reminded her of what she had lost. It reminded her of Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna… and the countless number of people that had died. It reminded her of Quidditch, exams, and such little rays of happiness that she had not appreciated until the Death Eaters snatched away her happiness like greedy, cold-hearted thieves.

Why hadn't she died along with her friends? She should've. It would've been less painful.

A tall, iron gate stood before the two. Two winged boars guarded the entrance, their wings extended upwards powerfully. Hermione gazed beyond the bars of the gate. Once, she was welcome there. Once, she was just any other student, studying and worrying about tests and exams.

It felt as if every effort that she had put in to help Harry survive, Harry, who was supposed to be the Savior of the World, was wasted. Why did she not succeed when she succeeded in everything else?

Sharp footsteps dragged her out of her reverie. Hermione felt Draco shuffle uncomfortably beside her, and she soon realized why: Professor Dumbledore, auburn-haired and moving at a much quicker pace than his older self would've walked at, was staring curiously at Draco and Hermione as he strode over to them.

"Good day, Miss and Mister," Dumbledore greeted, his penetrating blue eyes shifting from one to another. "Do you have an appointment with Headmaster Dippet?"

"Uh–– no, sir," Hermione said, her eyes fixed on her old headmaster. It had been a long time since his death, and seeing him, alive and well, flooded her with false hope: he wasn't the same Dumbledore as she knew many decades in the future, but it was hard to convince herself of that. Was he as wise? Was he as kind? Would Dumbledore understand their predicament? She could feel Draco tremble slightly and gulp. He did, after all, attempt to kill Dumbledore in his sixth year.

Dumbledore looked at them in surprise. "No? I'm sorry, Miss, but the headmaster does not speak with any outsiders unless they send him an appointment via owl."

But of course, Hermione had already known about this rule. She had read about it in _Hogwarts, A History, _and it had stated that Headmaster Armando Dippet had put this rule in effect during the rule of Grindelwald. It wasn't until Professor Dumbledore became headmaster did they lift the rule, and, when Voldemort rose again, the Ministry had reinstated it.

"Professor," Hermione said slowly. "I… We actually wanted to speak with you, sir."

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, scrutinizing them carefully. After another beat of awkward silence, he spoke, sounding strangely more aged as he did. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I cannot let you into the castle for security reasons. However," at this, Hermione's crestfallen expression lifted once again, "I may meet you in Hogsmeade village later today, if that is convenient?"

Hermione's face broke into a smile, and it felt strange, smiling, for she hadn't done so in a while. She nodded quickly. "Thank you, Professor." There was hope. She and Draco could tell Professor Dumbledore about everything, and he would help them. However, when she looked back up at him, she found that the usual twinkle in his eyes were absent. He seemed almost… deadened, as if he had struggled through years of pain and hurt.

How could this be?

She struggled to keep a polite smile on her face as she said, "Where in Hogsmeade, Professor?"

"There's a nice pub called 'Three Broomsticks'; I wonder if you are familiar with it?" When Hermione nodded, Dumbledore smiled kindly, though it was half-hearted. "I shall meet you there at 8 o'clock tonight, Miss…?"

"Granger, sir," Hermione said quickly. "And this is Draco." She nodded at Draco, who was half-hidden behind her.

Dumbledore nodded, and he was about to turn around and head back to the castle before he paused. "You seem like a nice lady, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "However, if this is one of Gellert's attempts for revenge, I am alert. Good day, Miss Granger, Mr. Draco." He strode off towards the castle, his light blue robes trailing behind him.

"'One of Gellert's attempts for revenge?'" Draco grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the path to Hogsmeade.

"Let's not go to Hogsmeade yet, Draco," Hermione stopped, forcing Malfoy to stop as well. "I've got to get a wand. Avery's wand works well enough for you, I hope?"

"It's alright," he answered. "We have to watch out for Riddle, though. He's probably noticed that we're not at Malfoy Manor anymore. We'll need to disguise ourselves." Malfoy glanced around warily, as if expecting the young Dark Lord to suddenly appear, his face murderous and his wand ready to send a deadly curse flying at them. "What did Dumbledore mean by 'one of Gellert's attempts for revenge'?"

Hermione sighed and faced him. "Don't you see? Dumbledore beat Gellert Grindelwald not too long ago, if not within a year or two. Evidently, Dumbledore is suffering from this. He just sent his best friend and perhaps lover to Nurmengard permanently. Not to mention the fact that Arianna, his own sister, died at the hand of either Dumbledore or Grindelwald years ago. He's in pain, Dumbledore."

"His lover?" Draco choked out. "_Grindelwald?" _

"History only hints at it," Hermione shrugged. "It's understandable. There has to be something that completely blinded Dumbledore from Grindelwald's true character other than his own want for power and his denial of dabbling in the Dark Arts. Only love could've bound Dumbledore so powerfully to him."

Draco's face twisted at the thought of Dumbledore being in love with Grindelwald. However, his eyebrows furrowed when he heard Hermione's last sentence: 'only love could've bound Dumbledore so powerfully to him'. He remembered Tom Riddle's words to him. Riddle was planning on changing Hermione… what if, just what if, Hermione fell in love with Riddle? She would be 'bound' to him, as she had said before…

But no, that was impossible. His eyes flickered to Hermione, who seemed lost in thought. Granger was a Gryffindor through and through, and nothing could change her morals. She wasn't power-hungry…

He remembered the determined expression on her face when she cast the runes to send them back in time. He remembered the tremor of the earth as her magic ruled, defying all of the laws of time travel and ripping through the earth's core. Which reminded him of something that he had meant to ask her…

"How?" Draco said, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. "How did you manage to transport us more than 50 years back into the past when a Time-Turner can only transport the person back a couple of hours? The Ministry––"

"The Ministry doesn't understand anything," Hermione interrupted, shaking her head. "The Ministry never attempted to invent a spell that would allow the caster to go back more than a couple of days. Imagine the disasters that would accompany such a spell! If everyone knew how to transport back years at a time, everything would be changing constantly. The Ministry can't risk that."

"Isn't there a Novikov self-consistency principle that states that if an event exists that would give rise to a paradox, or to any 'change' to the past whatsoever, then the probability of that event is zero?"

"There is," Hermione mumbled. "However, runes are an obscure branch of magic that is entirely different from normal magic, and, therefore, that principle is considered null and void."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "How did you know which runes to use, then?"

"I used a time-turner in my third year. Printed on the time-turner were the words 'My use and value unto you are gauged by what you have to do' and 'I mark the hours every one nor have I yet outrun the sun'. I used these words and found the basic magical properties of it. I've also read about pensieves. I decoded some of the runes that were marked around them, and then, I connected the two and added––"

"All right, all right," Draco cut her off, rolling his eyes. Still the Know-It-All, she was. "How exactly do we change the future when the future already occurred?"

Hermione bit her lip, blushing slightly. "I don't know how the future changes as we effect everything. That's the thing: I created the spell while I was prisoner in Malfoy Manor, and I didn't have the time to consider _how _it is done. That's why we should visit Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley as well, seeing as we're going to Ollivanders for my wand."

Of course: when in doubt, consult a book. Draco nodded slowly. "If Flourish and Blotts exists, we'll quickly find a book on runic magic and time travel. But first, we have to disguise ourselves." He lifted Avery's wand and pointed it at her.

"Try not to make me too hideous," Hermione muttered as she felt her features twist and change. The feeling was similar to the cold and melting sensation of a Disillusionment charm, and she shivered slightly, pulling the cloak around her tightly. She then changed Draco's features, and they quickly apparated to Diagon Alley.

O

Diagon Alley did not look that much different in the late forties. There was not as much hustle and bustle, but Hermione had never went to Diagon Alley other than when she was shopping for school supplies, which was when everyone was there.

The familiar cobblestones and bright stores caused Hermione's heart to clench once again. The last image that she had seen of Diagon Alley was full of gloom and dread. Barely any stores were open, and the paint was peeling away from uninhabited stores. Dark, unlit windows and neglected buildings were all that were left.

In the dungeon of Malfoy Manor, she would've done anything to see Diagon Alley and Hogwarts again. She would've done anything to see the bright, attractive stores of Diagon Alley and the tall turrets of Hogwarts. But now… all she felt was pain and regret. If only the Light had won the war. If only Harry hadn't died.

People were chatting and laughing as they shopped, unaware of the doom that was cursed upon the Wizarding World. Hermione shook, and she was grateful for Draco's silent comfort.

"Let's go," he said hoarsely, as if holding back emotion. When she looked at him, she saw a blank, plastic-like mask that he wore in front of Voldemort. Hermione nodded slowly, and they quickly found Ollivanders Wand Shop, which looked exactly the same as it did in the future.

When they entered the small store, she noted that the wooden shelves that were holding the wands were newer and in much better condition, and that the floor was polished and not as creaky.

"Good day, Miss and Mister," a man said, and she whipped around in surprise. Ollivander was standing behind the desk, brown-haired, his face not yet covered in wrinkles. He smiled at them and peered at Hermione curiously. "I have not met either of you before, I believe. Who might this young lady be?"

"I… Hermione, sir," she said. "Hermione… Wilkins." She could barely conceal the emotion in her voice when she chose this particular last name: it was the fake last name that she gave her parents when she obliviated them. Hermione knew that she couldn't keep the surname 'Granger', for Ollivander was known for remembering every customer that he had ever had.

"And you, sir?" Ollivander turned to face Draco. "You look remarkably like the Malfoys, might I say."

"Yes, I've been told," Draco said impassively, showing no emotion. "Draco Demeire."

"Will I be finding wands for both of you today?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, sir. Just me. Draco already has a wand."

"Oh?" Mr. Ollivander, who was searching through his shelves, immediately fixed his strange gaze on Draco. "May I see the wand? I do enjoy studying other wandmakers' products, and I'm sure that I have never met the two of you before, for I remember every wand that I've ever sold."

"I'd rather not," Draco said coldly.

Mr. Ollivander recoiled, surprised. "Of course, of course. I do not mean to pry, Mr. Demeire," he said quietly, retreating even deeper into the store. "I was merely curious. Now, Miss Wilkins." Mr. Ollivander emerged with a maroon-colored box and set it on the high, oak desk. He lightly picked up the wand and held it by the tip. "Birch, phoenix tail feather, 11 inches, reasonably springy. Good for Charms. Give it a nice wave."

Hermione took the wand and examined the twirling patterns on the handle before lightly waving it, which caused the few glass bottles on the back wall to shatter.

"No, no, _definitely _not." Ollivander disappeared amongst the shelves again, and he soon emerged with another box. "Rosewood, dragon heartstring, 10 ½ inches, inflexible. Good for Transfiguration." After Hermione made the floorboard crack with a wave of the wand, Ollivander returned with "rowan, unicorn hair, 11 ½ inches, flexible: good for Defense Against the Dark Arts", which evidently didn't choose her.

"Perhaps this one," Ollivander placed a jade-colored box on the table, and he delicately held up a familiar wand. "Vine, dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches, inflexible. Good for Charms."

Hermione hesitated before taking the wand. After all, she would be changing the future if she accepted this very wand: would her 11-year-old self receive a different wand now that the original one was in her hands?

However, instead of feeling warmth and light at the touch of her wand, the lights in the store flickered out, plunging the store into darkness.

"Closer… but not quite." Ollivander waved his wand, and the lights flickered on again. He was smiling reassuringly as he took the wand and vanished amongst the shelves once again.

"What's wrong?" Draco whispered when he felt her tense. Hermione's eyebrows were pushed together, and her mind was working furiously. What was the reason why her intended wand changed? Was it possible?

Mr. Ollivander placed a different wand in her hand. "Maple, dragon heartstring, 11 inches, inflexible. Good for runes."

Before she even touched the wood, she knew that this wand would choose her. The room glowed with light and power, and a warm breeze caressed her cheeks as she held the wand in her hand. She felt reunited with her magic… and her magic felt more powerful than ever. Of course, she had resorted to wandless magic before, which produced weaker results.

"Ah, yes," Ollivander beamed. "A mysterious wand that is, Miss Wilkins. Use it well."

"Mysterious, Mr. Ollivander?" Hermione tilted her head to one side. "How so?"

Ollivander was positively glowing with happiness that someone had taken interest in wand lore. "Maple wood symbolizes strength, creation, bindings, revolution, rebirth, healing, beauty, art, and abundance. It is known as a traveler's wood, and it enhances intellectual pursuits and learning."

"'Traveler's wood'?"

"For those who are always moving and changing, of course. Dragon heartstring, as you may know, is known as the strongest of the cores, for it is also the most aggressive. However, the curious aspect of this wand is that it is good for runes. Runes, being the secretive branch of magic that it is, rarely ever is a person's talent. Most people who are talented at ancient runes become Unspeakables at the Ministry."

Hermione was taken aback at how accurate the meaning of the wand matched her situation. Wand lore almost seemed alike to Divination, which was quite the useless subject… but to be so close to the truth…

"Mr. Ollivander, is it possible for a person to change allegiances with a wand? Say… if a person were to have one wand, but then was more fit to another after years past?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Wilkins!" Ollivander said at once. "A wand's allegiance may change. If a person is disarmed, the wand's loyalty may shift to the victorious person."

"However, what if the person wasn't disarmed? What if the person… or rather, a different wand chooses the person?"

Ollivander peered closely at her behind his glasses. "Those are very deep questions that you ask, Miss Wilkins. Most young ladies do not dare ask so many inquisitive questions. In fact, most young ladies find no interest in wand lore. Forgive me for saying this, but I warn you not to let this curious side take over your personality, for it may frighten away suitors."

"S-Suitors?" Hermione stuttered, turning beet-red. She could feel Draco silently laughing behind her. "Oh, o-of course not, Mr. Ollivander. I wouldn't dream of… I don't…"

"But of course, the young man standing behind you is probably already wrapped around your finger–" at this, Draco choked in surprise, "Forgive me for intruding on your privacy," Ollivander smiled apologetically. "To answer your question, the change within a person's character can cause a different wand to choose the wizard or witch. As a Patronus changes when there is a drastic change in the caster, the wand changes when the person experiences something life changing."

If anything changed Hermione drastically, it would obviously be the war. But how had she changed? She knew that she was darker now: that was inevitable. But what else had changed?

"We ought to get going now, Hermione," Draco said, taking out a velvet pouch that clinked with galleons, sickles, and knuts. Hermione had no idea where he had gotten the money: surely the Death Eaters emptied his pockets when they captured them?

"Of course," Hermione said. Draco paid, and an enthusiastic Ollivander bid them farewell as they exited his store.

"He's different from the Ollivander that we know," Draco commented as they walked towards Flourish and Blotts. Luckily, the store had already been established, and the familiar red sign was hanging from the wooden door. Two tan quills pointed to the words 'Flourish and Blotts', which were elegantly inked, and the sign for Diagon Alley was etched on the top-center of the sign.

Hermione pushed the door open, and the soft tinkle of bells accompanied the door opening. "Of course he is. He is much younger than the Ollivander that we know–– he must've changed somewhat over the years. By the way," she turned around to face him, "how did you get the money?"

Draco smirked, grabbing her by the elbow and leading her toward the bookshelves. "Nicked it from Avery's pocket," he answered smugly. "I thought that we may need money if we stay at the Leaky Cauldron."

"That was… intelligent of you," Hermione said slowly, sounding surprised. Draco gave her an insulted look as she made her way towards the 'travel' section of the bookstore. With an expert hand, she plucked out the book 'The Properties of Time', and, after skimming through it quickly, she nodded, satisfied with the contents. She then walked over to the 'Study of Ancient Runes' section and flipped through a couple of books before settling on the book 'A Deep Understanding of the Runes'.

Draco quickly paid for the two books, and it was seven fifty-two when they exited the store, the two shrunken books in Hermione's pocket, for Draco's pocket held the Death Eater mask (just in case they needed it). When the door of Flourish and Blotts was pushed close, they met a gathering crowd that was circling around a young boy and a man.

"I didn't steal anything!" the boy shouted, trying to yank his arm from the older man's grip. The man was beefy and large, and his face was nearly red from what seemed to be anger. Large hands gripped the boy's upper arm with an iron-strong grasp.

"I saw you, boy!" the man roared. "I saw you nick a bag of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties and hauling it out of the door, you filthy thief! Little boys brought up by incapable parents… thieving from sweets shops and such…" The man lifted his hand and a resounding _smack _could probably be heard from everywhere in the street.

"Stop!" Hermione lurched forward, and Draco grabbed her arm, pulling her back. Hermione wrenched her arm out of his hand and ran forward, pushing the boy behind her and using her body as a shield for him. "Stop that!"

"Miss––"

"He's just a boy, can't you see?" her brown eyes blazed with fury as she glared at the large man. Despite how he dwarfed her in height, he seemed to shrink under her glowering stare. "Beating him like that… He was probably just hungry." She turned around to face the boy, who flinched away from her, as if afraid that she would unleash her anger on him as well. Hermione's gaze softened. "Did you steal from the sweets shop? I promise there will be no punishment––"

"Now, lady, it is not your place to be deciding whether or not there will be punishment for thievery––"

Hermione whipped around, wand drawn. The crowd waited on a bated breath as she somehow looked down her nose at the man despite being a foot shorter than him. "You are despicable, hitting a child when you have _no right _to do so. You disgust me. Here," Hermione took Draco's moneybag and took out two shiny galleons, "This ought to pay for the stolen candy."

The man glanced around nervously and accepted the galleons without contradicting her. "Very well, miss," he said before turning to glare at the boy. "However, if I ever see you steal from my store again, boy–"

"He won't; I assure you," Hermione hissed, and the man nodded curtly before turning around and disappearing into a colorful, picture-covered store called 'Sugarplum's Sweets Shop'. The crowd dispersed, evidently believing that all of the excitement was finished, and they murmured quietly to each other, pointing to Hermione and gossiping about her unladylike behavior.

"Are you all right?" Hermione knelt down and lightly placed her hands on the boy's bony shoulders. The boy was dressed in a very tattered grey robe that was covered in dirt and soil. A blooming handprint was visible on his beige skin, and his brown eyes were fixed remorsefully on the ground as he nodded slightly in answer to her question.

"Listen," Hermione sighed, placing a finger under his chin and forcing him to look at her. He had very dark brown eyes, a sloping nose, and hollow cheeks–– evidently his family was very poor, judging by the state of his robes and the skinniness of his body. "It was not right for the man to hit you, but it also isn't right to steal, understand?"

The child mumbled something.

"Repeat that, please?"

The child's eyes were still fixed on the ground. "I was hungry," he said quietly, and Hermione felt uncontrollable pity for the small boy. He looked no more than 9 years old, if not younger, and his body was entirely skin and bone.

"Here," Hermione slipped five galleons out of Draco's moneybag, which seemed to be full of coins. "Use this to help your family, all right?"

To her surprise, the child pushed the galleons away from him. "I ran away from home," he murmured. "My family hates me."

"Of course they don't hate you," Hermione said, her voice gentle. "The love within a family is unconditional. Go home and use this money wisely."

She thought that she saw a flash of resentment in those eyes. "My family hates me," he repeated. "I'm not going home, no matter what."

"Hermione, we're going to be late for Dumbledore," Draco cut across whatever her reply to the boy would've been. "It's nearly eight."

Something stirred in the boy's eyes as he stared at Draco and then looked at Hermione again.

"Draco, we just can't leave him––" the boy relaxed his tense muscles, as if afraid that they would leave him alone in Diagon Alley, "–– we've got to help him."

"You and helping the weak––"

"Draco! I'm helping this boy no matter what!" Hermione stood up, hands on her hips, a determined look in her eyes. She stared at him until he sighed in exasperation.

"Fine. By all means, bring him along," he hissed. "It's eight. We've got to go!"

Hermione turned to the boy. "What's your name, honey?" she asked kindly, ignoring Draco's sigh of impatience.

"J-James," the boy whispered, and Hermione was suddenly reminded of Harry, _Harry James Potter, _who was treated horribly by his aunt and uncle, who was brave and died too young…

Her resolve to help this young boy strengthened tenfold. "Do you mind if you come along with us, James? We have a meeting to go to, but we'll give you clothes, food, and water and then deliver you back to your family."

James blinked. "I don't want to go back to my family, Miss."

"Hermione, we're going to be late––"

"All right, all right! Come on, James, we're going to apparate to Hogsmeade," Hermione grabbed the boy's small hand and then took Draco's arm as they apparated to Three Broomsticks.

**Author's Notes: **That was a rather long chapter… and even so, it was simply a filler, once again. Starting next chapter, there will be many more encounters with Riddle, I _promise. _Please do review, and I'm sorry that this chapter took so long!

_I don't know where I'm at  
I'm standing at the back  
And I'm tired of waiting  
Waiting here in line, hoping that I'll find what I've been chasing._

_I shot for the sky  
I'm stuck on the ground  
So why do I try, I know I'm gonna fall down  
I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?  
Never know why it's coming down, down, down._

_I'm not ready to let go  
Cause then I'd never know  
What I could be missing  
But I'm missing way too much  
So when do I give up, what I've been wishing for._

_I shot for the sky  
I'm stuck on the ground  
So why do I try, I know I'm gonna fall down  
I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?  
I'll never know why it's coming down, down, down.  
Oh I am going down, down, down  
Can't find another way around  
And I don't want to hear the sound, of losing what I never found._

_I shot for the sky  
I'm stuck on the ground  
So why do I try, I know I'm gonna fall down  
I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?  
I never know why it's coming down, down, down._

_I shot for the sky  
I'm stuck on the ground  
So why do I try, I know I'm gonna fall down  
I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?  
I'll never know why, it's coming down, down, down._

_-Jason Walker, Down_


	10. Author's Note

**Author's Notes: **Firstly, this is not a new chapter.

Secondly, I'M SO SORRY. I know that I haven't updated since summer, but school really has been busy and stressing! I've been sick with a fever at least five times in the last couple of months, and I've practically been _living _at school and drowning in work.

Thirdly, _when will I update again? _I'm not sure. After not writing for last half year, I'm not really submerged in my stories as much anymore. Furthermore, I'm sure that many readers have forgotten this story by now. However, I may continue when summer vacation comes along… which is in two months.

Thank you to any fans that have stuck with me from the very beginning.

_-chrissy_


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